Random Acts
by mercutio-rane
Summary: What's a momentary act of kindness to a werewolf? Quite a bit if you're the werewolf. Ten memories in chronological order featuring Lily, James, Sirius, Tonks, Minerva, Harry, Dumbledore, Molly, and Snape. Complete!
1. Seven, The Stranger

_Author's Note: After thinking the other day about the fact that Remus has seen so much injustice, I thought I'd write about some human decency he's experienced. I don't think Remus could be the strong person that he is without recognizing some goodness in the world and experiencing it firsthand. So here are some small moments that made a big difference in his life. If people enjoy them, I'll write about ten, in chronological order._

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_"Every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action."_

_Lovell_

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**Random Acts**

**"Year Seven"**

Remus bit his tongue to fight back a cry lodged in his throat. His arms bled freely and blood pulled upward in his lungs, wet and strung out with every breath. He leaned against a tree. The bark hurt. He hurt.

If he were a normal boy, people would come to help him – so small and so wounded. But he wasn't normal. And for a year now, he hadn't even been a boy, really. What was he?

And why did his dry mouth taste of raw flesh? Remus wiped at the blood on his body and realized some of it wasn't his, saw the remnants of fur pasted to his hands with dried gore. He ate last night. The farmers knew.

_What'd I do? I've been bad…I'm bad…_

"MUM!" he screamed in terror, the cry catching in his chest and sending a small trail of bloody sputum down his chin.

The hunting party prowled nearby, voices sharp and separated, and Remus shook at the cacophonic yelping of their frantic dogs, goaded forward by traces of his scent. The people sounded angry. The dogs desperate. They wanted to kill the thing that stole from them. Kill him..But he had to cross the field to get home. "Too far," he whispered, letting his legs collapse beneath him and felt immediate relief from the pain of standing. _Too far to cross the field._

Where would his family go now? The city? Maybe things would be better there. Maybe people would understand. And he could have friends. And play in the park. Or maybe we would die here, at the hands of the hunters. Maybe it was better this way.

"Here!"

Remus turned his head, legs sprawled weakly and awkwardly below, and hid his nakedness by thrusting a bloody arm between his thighs. A tall, wild-haird man in dirty clothes emerged from the woods. He trained his rifle on Remus and walked forward, eyes full of warning and mouth aggressively set.

"It's you, ain' it? Got in the pastures last night, didn' ya! Over here!" The man called over his shoulder.

Remus wrapped his arms tightly around himself and trained his eyes on the gun barrel's black hole. He pictured the bullet pounding into his skin and tearing through, drawing blood he couldn't stop. Flowing blood…like after his first transformation…..and the nightmares that came in its wake.

"I wanna go home……I hurt all over…people hurt me….here…" He looked down numbly and splayed a red hand across his side then looked up at the man, dazed.

As the man drew near, Remus fell the rest of the way to the ground, too overcome with shock to try and run. He saw the gun shift downward in the man's hand, dirt in the creases of his knuckles. The farmer smelled of burned wood and unwashed skin, and Remus shook his head weakly as he felt cold mud soaking into his hair, practically burning him with chill.

But the man just squatted down and studied the caked pellet punctures in the child's side where the shotgun blast peppered him - too distant to kill him but enough to ravage his young skin. The boy could die of lead poisoning if the pellets weren't removed.

"They're looking for you. The little werewolf who took two sheep last night. They'll kill you, son…..Sheep are our livelihood, do you understand me?"

Remus opened his eyes wide, his heart pounding.

"Aye," he whispered.

"You have family or are you feral?"

"I-I…I've got a mum and dah," he said shakily and managed to sit up and scratch backwards, away from the man.

"And they let you just run about when you're the wolf? Just let you run wild?"

"They keep me in the barn. I musta got out. I…don' wanna hurt anyone. I jus wan' my Mum….MUM!" He looked around desperately and whined as the tears began to fall, leaving clean trails down his blood-smeared cheeks.

The farmer suddenly realized how helpless the boy was - just a little lad, lanky and small, caked with gore and dirt, his hair plastered down from sweat and morning dew and now screaming for his mother. Werewolf or not, this was too much to take.

Remus moaned when the farmer picked him up under the arms and took him to the back of his small mule. He pulled out a wooden canteen and poured water on Remus' shoulders and face, dabbed some of the blood away hastily then took off his dirty overshirt and wrapped it around the boy.

Remus held still as sounds of the search party edged closer, and his breath quickened in fear. Would this man take him to the others?

"It's alright," the farmer said quietly. "Take Tirnanog home. Ride her home then let her loose. She'll come back to me. But you best not get out agan', understand?"

"Aye," Remus nodded quickly, and wondered for a moment if he were dreaming.

"Now go! Quickly!" The man swatted his mule's behind, and Remus guided Tirnanog into a trot and across the field. He turned once to see the man, just a speck in the distance with his face fixed on the mule and the small werewolf. And just as Remus edged into the trees, the man greeted the encroaching hunting party with a shrug, the raise of his arms barely discernable from so far away.

Once home, Remus' distraught parents made him comfortable and called for a healer. His father fed Tirnanog a good meal of oats and tied a bag of galleons to the animal's saddle with a note that some were for the man's kindness and the rest for replacing any sheep the werewolf had killed. (Never Remus…the werewolf.)

Soon after, they moved to London. Away from the green meadows where he almost met his death save an impoverished farmer who had probably seen little solace in his life but had provided it for a small boy when it mattered most.

In later years, especially when his ability to see the good in man failed him, Remus would remember the farmer and vow to show courtesy and compassion to others, even when it failed to come his way. And it would fail many times…

**tbc**

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	2. Ten, Dumbledore

_Author note: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I'll continue onward through the fog. _

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**Random Acts**

"**Year Ten"**

"_The only gift is a portion of thyself." Ralph Waldo Emerson_

The banner draped above him read, "Welcome to Hogwarts - 589th Annual Visitor's Day". Remus studied the large boar statues flanking the entrance steps and scanned the grounds, lingering on the lake.

"Where Godric Gryffindor first discovered the magical uses of gillyweed," he recited and blinked against dizzying pain in his mangled knee. The stone steps felt cool beneath his palms as he focused on the Ravenclaw quidditch team walking to the pitch in their royal blue robes and polished leather guards. _I wonder where my class is? What they're seeing? Bugger this knee!_

Last night, London City Holding had caged him with a particularly large werewolf, and  
he wasn't surprised to find his leg bent back at a very ugly angle in the morning. LCH flooed him to St. Mungos, where he knew everyone by name, including the janitor and the ER floo network attendant.

"Just pop it back!" he insisted. "I can't miss school today, I mean it!"

Medi-wizard Mavis Goddard called for three days of bed rest and potions, but Remus had begged his father like never before to attend the class trip to Hogwarts. His father acquiesced but only after enduring the most ardent display of groveling Remus had ever doled out.

"Promise you'll call if you need picked up?" John Lupin worriedly asked his small son amid the crowded huddle of parents and kids on Platform 9 ¾. Remus had nodded and put on his brave face until he boarded the Hogwarts Express then immediately hobbled to the bathroom and sank to the floor, clutching at his knee. Pain shot up his spine and down his leg, and he raised the toilet lid when his stomach lurched with the train's movement.

He'd never take Dark Arts classes or get sorted by that notoriously candid hat or live in those high stone towers like he'd seen in _Hogwarts: A History_, but he would at least visit Hogwarts once, even if it killed him.

Now, the pain had decreased to a dull pulsing as he watched the Ravenclaw seeker bolt across the sky on a practice run. Two boys in Slytherin robes walked by and threw him a pompous glare.

"Oy! Doxie terd!"

Remus nodded in their direction, obviously not missing their derision but not seeming to mind it either. He knew enough about Hogwarts to know about Slytherin house. When the boys passed, Remus took a heavy breath and raised his pants leg to check a neatly tied bandage around his knee then rearranged the pants leg carefully.

"Young man, I believe you are….misplaced?"

Remus started and Dumbledore regretted creeping up on the lad. But he had to get out of the castle. Of course, he appreciated the intent of Visitors' Day, but Hogwarts swarming with hundreds of frenetic ten-year-olds did not make for his favorite event of the school year.

"You are here with your teacher and classmates, are you not?"

"Yes sir, but I'm not feeling well today." He looked over his shoulder and upward at the sprawling castle walls. "Too…too many stairs. My teacher knows I'm waiting outside." When Remus turned back around, he added for his own sake more than the man's, "But at least I'm here at Hogwarts."

"I see."

Remus pulled down his sleeves casually when Dumbledore walked closer, but the headmaster still caught a glimpse of jagged scars running across the boy's skin when he came alongside and opened a bag of Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"I assume you're familiar with these?"

The boy raised his eyebrows and smiled before carefully selecting two black ones out of the bag (surely licorice!) and murmuring a very polite 'thank you.'

"My name is – "

"Albus Dumbledore. You're in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Albus smiled lightly. "May I ask your name?"

"Remus." The boy rose quickly to shake Dumbledore's hand and Albus saw him fight a wince of pain before he sat back down.

"Remus Lupin."

"It's very nice to meet you, Remus Lupin. And it's a shame you're missing the tour of the school. I first saw Hogwarts when I was your age…on Visitors' Day. And now I teach here. But, of course, you already knew that."

Remus gave him a rare smile.

"Now if you don't mind my candor, where are you hurting?"

"What?" Remus looked alarmed.

"Tell me where it hurts."

"I'm not…in…it doesn't. I'm just not feeling well today. Headache…sorta."

"Young man, it will never do to lie to me."

"My knee, my right knee." Remus said immediately.

"And can you tell me what happened?"

"It's….I…." Remus dropped his shoulders and looked defeated. "I'm sorry. I…..I have Lycanthropy. I hurt it last night in……in the London City Holding cages."

"I see…fighting, were we?"

Well…they don't always have a single cage for me. Sometimes….well, sometimes I get beat up. But I fight back….I just…well, I guess I lose." He grinned in dark amusement as he rubbed his knee and popped the second jellybean in his mouth.

"And instead of being in bed, as well you should, you've come to Hogwarts today?"

"I'll never see it otherwise," he said simply without a trace of pity.

"And how bad is your knee?"

"Not too bad. Could be worse."

"But it hinders you from keeping up with your classmates, and you very much wanted to see the school." Dumbledore gave Remus a small smile. "So it must hurt terribly."

"If you said cutting it off would help, I'd let you do it."

"And yet, you say it could be worse."

"Things can always be worse." Albus saw a wisdom in his eyes that no child his age should have - wisdom gained only after years of hardship and suffering.

Dumbledore reached forward and put his hand on the boy's knee with a low murmur, and Remus watched an ephemeral glimmer of light wreath the injury.

"Better?"

He tested the leg, surprised at his lack of pain.

"That should last long enough to see the school without causing any residual damage….and…something that might come in handy…" Dumbledore pawed casually through his robe pockets and with a quiet "Ah!" finally removed a quill sized piece of wood with a handle. But when Remus held the offered object, it extended into a walking cane that fit him perfectly. .

"It morphs to the user. Tap twice for storage. And may you only need it occasionally, young Remus." Then without taking his eyes off the boy, Dumbledore stood and extended his left arm and called to a red-headed young woman in Gryffindor robes who had barely appeared in his peripheral vision.

"Molly Prewett, this is Remus Lupin. Remus is visiting Hogwarts today with his class. Could you help him locate his teacher and schoolmates?"

"Of course, Professor."

Molly put her hand lightly on his shoulder but as they turned to go, Remus realized awe had displaced his manners and used his new cane to determinedly walk back to Dumbledore and proffer his hand.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. For everything. I'll never forget meeting you." Dumbledore shook the small werewolf's hand and leaned forward to meet his eyes.

"Mr. Lupin, the feeling is mutual."

Remus glowed at the comment then turned shyly to rejoin Molly, who waited for him with a patient smile.

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Just one year later, Remus was 30 miles from home, planting potatoes in the field with his grandfather, when a large brown owl fluttered over and dropped a letter in his hands. Remus wiped dirty palms on his jeans and turned the letter over, saw the red wax stamp marked with an ornate letter "H." 

And cried.

**tbc**


	3. Twelve, The Marauders

_Thanks SO much to everyone who has reviewed! Here's another installment for you guys. I climb and hope the message on this one isn't lost on those who don't. Please let me know what you think! And happy reading! _

_By the way, for those of you following "Gash or Gold" – don't worry, I'm still working on it! This is just a side project that has taken my fancy. _

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**Random Acts**

"**Year Twelve"**

"_Our way is not soft grass, it's a mountain path with lots of rocks. But it goes upwards, forward, toward the sun."_

_Ruth Westheimer_

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One more step. This foot. That foot. Left. Right. Every. Thing. On. My. Body. Hurts. Merlin….. 

Sirius lost his temper first.

"James, PLEASE explain to me one more time WHY we are doing this without magic! We could have flown up here on the brooms!"

"Because it's there, Sirius! Because it's there!" James yelled over his shoulder, giddy from the altitude.

"You can stuff your old Muggle quotes, Potter!" Sirius wailed back.

Remus looked up at the mountain summit, some 200 meters or so away. They were pretty close! But as they gained altitude, the snow got harder, the wind got colder, and the terrain seemed more alien, more detached from the green grass and stone walls of civilization. The world seemed less hospitable here as the sky grew closer – darker, meaner – more animalistic even, untamed and feral.

They'd only hiked a few scant hours and had almost reached the summit. It wasn't that big of a mountain, really. But the change in their surroundings with every step higher was startling. Remus searched his mind for an inner instinct that could love this pastime but found only hunger, frozen toes, and a very vivid image of his warm four-poster with the sheets pulled back, waiting for him.

"James, I hate to sound twelve, but….are we there yet?"

"Remus, you are twelve and NO we are not there yet!"

"You're going too fast, James. You'll kill us both!"

Sirius melodramatically threw himself into the snow and Remus collapsed beside him and shared a grin. James turned with a sigh and glissaded down to his fallen comrades, dug his heels into the snow to stop besides them.

"Water break, then?"

"Definitely," Sirius nodded and dug through his pack for a canteen then pulled it out like he had just discovered a dead rat.

"Cor, mine is frozen solid!"

Remus pulled his from inside his jacket and shook the water inside. "Body heat," he explained.

"Good idea, Remus! You're thinking like a mountain climber!" Potter gave him a genuine smile as he pulled out a large brick of Honeyduke's Finest and divided it among them.

Remus almost shattered a tooth on the frozen chocolate and pushed it to the back of his mouth, willing it to find a warm enough place to melt, and passed his water to Sirius who took it gratefully.

Remus had known the two boys since he arrived at Hogwarts, of course, but only recently had a camaraderie blossomed. Not that he had initiated it – or any of his friendships, for that matter. Eventually, lycanthropy ruined everything. That was a stone-set reality in his life.

When "the truth" emerged, friends went through their own transformations. Their faces and demeanors changed, until he no longer recognized them as the people he used to know. He saw everything in their morphing features - from delicate fear to total revulsion - before they faded from his life for good. But they did fade. All of them.

"I'm still the same. Why do they hate me now when they didn't hate me yesterday?" he had asked his mother once.

"Because some people won't make an effort to understand things," she had said gently. "You need special friends, Remus. Strong friends."

Over time, Lupin learned that these departures hurt less if he had no hand in their arrivals. If friends came and went while he remained the passive object, watching people come and go from his life. And so it began with these two boys. Coming to him. Seeking him out.

Then Remus, much to his own dismay, began dodging through crowded hallways to catch up, craning his neck to find Potter's crazy hair in the great hall, hedging through student clusters to sit next to Sirius in potions. All on his own accord.

It felt dangerous to like their company as much as he did. But they intrigued him, especially Sirius Black, who didn't let Remus' polite reserve, pedantic propensities, and furtive disappearances pass without note or jab. Black was much smarter than he acted. Brilliant, really, without being obvious about it. And Remus knew it was only a matter of time until he "knew."

So when Potter and Black corralled him in the library and Remus looked up to find them both gauging him with observant eyes, part of him froze in terror.

"Remus J. Lupin, how you feeling today?" James whispered.

Remus looked around the library with a bit of alarm.

"Why?"

"You up for a little trip out this weekend?"

"I can't get permission."

"Remus, Remus, Remus," Sirius smiled and rolled his eyes.

It was a _carpe diem_ moment. The weather looked promising, the weekend homework less grueling than usual. They locked their doors and conjured sleeping doubles. Two floo networks, one portkey, and seven miles by broom-flight later, they reached the base of a mountain that James had already climbed several times.

"Alright, mates! Let's go. Not much further."

Potter repacked the chocolate and slung on his pack with a grunt.

"So…." Remus said, getting up with some difficulty and repacking his bag. "Why do you do this, James?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "My grandfather climbs, started when he was about our age. I'm climbing all the ones he climbed as a kid. Onward and upward?" he said hopefully, looking at his two freezing friends.

Remus nodded then laughed at Sirius' maudlin expression and received a playful smack on the back of his head in exchange. And on they headed towards the summit.

Time moved slowly, passing in sounds and errant thoughts.

He heard determination in their crunching steps, exhaustion in their labored breathing. Not much farther…

White wisps of snow trailed outward, carried by miniature jetstreams threading steadily off the mountaintop, and Remus watched the tendrils play about the air before they trickled down and showered him with a taste of ice.

And suddenly, they stood on top. Sirius and Remus gaped at the staggering view on the other side, and James basked in their expressions as he planted a small Gryffindor flag on the summit and took pictures with Sirius' camera.

Remus hadn't expected the vibrant trees and rivers that resembled tiny specks and swirling lines of greens and blues; and the peppered snow of the slopes petering out as it faded amidst the deeper colors of the valley floor.

They hunkered down into their coats and drank in the view like warm butterbeer. The tints, the smells - the living painting before them pulsed with a strange peace that made everything perfect, if only for that moment in time. Few people would see the world exactly as they saw it, from that small mountain on an early spring day.

Remus' quiet voice knocked them out of their revelry.

"It makes sense to me now, James….. why you climb."

"Why?"

"Well," he said, scanning the view, a feeling of pure serenity running through his veins despite the howling gusts that pushed him back a bit now and then, the icy ground cold beneath his hands, chilling him to the bone.

"Because some things are worth earning, ya know? Worth fighting for, even if the fight has to come from within. Even if it takes something out of you. Makes you pay, I guess. It means more this way."

"Remus, you sound like a professor!" Sirius joked

But Potter's eyes were bright and intense as he gazed at Remus.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

And as they finally stood up and made to head down, Remus said something he'd wanted to say all day long.

"Thank you for bringing me."

James looked embarrassed.

"Well, it was Sirius' idea, really. I didn't think you could make it up here." he admitted. "And I knew Peter couldn't!"

Sirius glanced at Remus quickly, almost shyly, then looked back at the view with a silly grin.

"Why?" Remus laughed. "Why'd you ask me?"

"Don't know." Sirius said, continuing to look away. "You've been sick lately, on and off. And you seem sorta lonely sometimes. I thought you could use a break from everything. And I knew you could do it. You're…I think you're stronger than you look."

Potter just shrugged and patted Remus on the back as he headed down, but Remus looked at Sirius with an unnerving intensity. Did he know?

"Ta, Black." Remus said earnestly and took in a lungful of the clean, cold air. "There's no place I'd rather be at this very moment…. than with you prats." Sirius grabbed him in a headlock as they started back, and their laughter made James turn around and smile.

Up until that point in his life, Remus had lived a regimented life of heeding rules and desperately obeying them. It was all part of his attempt to create structure for himself when his world had so little by its very nature. But the weekend he conjured a double, snuck out of Hogwarts and went mountain climbing with his two new mates , he became a marauder. And the best years of his life began.

And although many other acts would mean more in the grand scheme of things, he often came back to the simple invite of a furtive weekend trip and the strength it gave him to believe in himself and to understand, through hard-earned epiphany, that few good things come to us without a struggle, but to the very end – bitter or sweet - they are very much worth the effort.

Not long after, his friends did discover his deep, dark secret, filling Remus with a dread that cut to the very heart of him. He had invested himself too deeply this time to hide the scars made by their departure, which he knew would come soon, leaving him alone in the world once again.

"I won't apologize," he said softly. "I can't help what I am. But I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore. It's alright."

"No, it's not," Sirius said coldly.

"Okay, then it's not. So what do you want me to do, Black? Leave? Drop out of school?"

"Of course not."

Remus looked stunned.

"Why would we want that?" James added carefully.

Remus looked into their faces. Peter looked a little scared, but James and Sirius - they looked the same, acted the same. He waited for them to change, to become something other than his familiar mates. And nothing happened.

"Then why are you here?" Remus muttered.

"Maybe because we're your friends, Remus? Merlin…" James said and shook his head.

"I'm a werewolf."

Sirius was starting to get mad.

"So, what's your point? What do we have to do? Are you going to make this hard? Because if you are, that's fine. We can take it." Sirius narrowed his eyes with a devious grin. "A mate of mine once said that some things are worth fighting for, even if the fight has to come from within. So are we going to put this behind us? Hmm? Can you accept that we're not werewolves?"

And in spite of his misery, Remus laughed as tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.. And he realized that some things truly were sweeter for the effort. He had worked to gain their friendship and, in return, was rewarded with something finer than he had ever imagined gaining. Strong friends.

Only later would he learn how bitter or how sweet those friendships ran as he considered them whilst on the long climbs that the world thrust upon them. When the trails of life were steep and the way weary and hard. When the summits of those mountains called War and Loss were so very very far away….

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**tbc**


	4. Sixteen, The Marauders

_Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed this piece! You really keep me going. Just to keep you updated, a moment with Lily at age nineteen will be next. _

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_"No one can make you feel inferior without your permission."_

_Eleanor Roosevelt_

**Random Acts**

"**Year Sixteen"**

"So you see, class, the dark creature is, by its very nature, inherently deviant even when it exists in a dual state, as in the werewolf. Evil is…

Mr. Malfoy…ahem….pay attention, please….thank you…

As I was saying, evil is at the **core** of the dark creature's personality and, as such, it will always dominate or…supersede, as it were, the more humane half, if indeed, the humane half is still evident in the dark creature's personality at all.

Now…..due to intensive psychiatric research on the subject, scientists now know that the magic at work within dark creatures manifests itself in a form akin to human mental illness and, therefore, it affects every aspect of their consciousness. As such, it is impossible to expect them to function in normal society."

While Professor Rookwood wrapped up Monday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class with some less than astute conclusions, Remus sat in the front row swallowing his hurt and anger, the blood in his face pounding in his ears and behind his eyes. Professor Rookwood's voice sounded like a far-off echo of an ugly truth, like someone delivering horrific news he couldn't register. He couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't think.

_Why is he doing this…_

"Because of this, integration into magical job forces or school systems is not recommended by The Ministry. And to safeguard the population, it has been recently recommended that dark creatures attempting to maintain some involvement in regular society be registered, permanently tagged, or sequestered to help curb endangerment of the innocent. Hopefully, legislation enacting these principles will come to pass soon."

When the tower bell rang, Remus wasn't sure if the sound was real or just part of his reeling mind struggling to come to terms with what he just heard from Rookwood's mouth.

_Rookwood's big fat mouth…_

"Oh! My, class went quickly today. Be sure to read Adolphus Macnair's essay on the dark creature attacks of the Middle Ages and Madagar Snape's treatise - 'Neurological Deviations in Logic and Rationale in the Dark Creature.' That will be all!"

An hour later, Remus slumped under a tree, studying the words on the open book in front of him as if they were symbols of a foreign tongue, observing the texture of the paper and the way and shadows and sunlight brought out its texture, how the wind erratically rippled the far corner now and then.

_Deviant mind…_

For the first time this term, he was glad that James and Sirius didn't have DADA class with him. Peter was in the same class but didn't seem to remotely register the lesson today. Or else he pretended such as he walked out with Remus, discussing the finer merits of the newest brand of sugar quills.

_Dark in every aspect of consciousness…_

Suddenly, Sirius came from out of nowhere and flopped down on his legs like a sack of potatoes.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Moony?"

"I'm not thinking, I'm reading."

"You're pretending to read while you're thinking. Your brow bunches up like that when you're lost in thought, kid. Hate to blow your cover."

When Sirius poked at the furrow, Remus batted the finger away and Sirius rolled over on his back and blew a bubble with a double dose of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"You want some gum?"

"I want a ton of gum, yes."

Sirius pulled the bag out of his pocket and threw it to Remus, who caught it one-handed when it fell against his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Sirius cocked his eyebrow at him, showing he didn't buy it.

"Everything…everything's wrong."

"Wanna talk or are you in one of your 'let me work this out for myself' moods."

"I'm…I need to walk…and think. Don't follow me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Thanks for the gum, mate."

Remus returned the gum bag minus three pieces, slung the heavy bookbag over his shoulder and trudged away from the school, head down and carefully minding his steps. He could feel Sirius' eyes on his back and felt bad for not telling him what had happened in class. But he couldn't talk about it yet. It was..too embarrassing, really.

Hours passed.

Darkness fell.

A taste of firewhiskey, running down his throat.

His brain churning.

Remus rolled around mentally in a mind full of words. Not just words. Weapons. So powerful, so precarious in their choice. Words from Rookwood's mouth that painted him as an evil entity, to be controlled and possibly destroyed. Even worse, the words jabbed at his consciousness, telling some part of him that his professor was right, that he was no good.

But everything his parents and Dumbledore and his life had taught him fought against the self-loathing that occasionally reverberated in the back of his mind, especially during times like these.

Early on, Remus learned the dangers of being a grey soul in a society obsessed with the convenient organization of darkness and light. Dark and light were easy. They required little thought and created the comfort of structure and shared opinion.

He understood structure – the need for it, the desperation for it. Merlin, he wrote the book on structure. But sometimes, it didn't exist. Couldn't exist. And it was there that he found beauty and sometimes truth. In enigmas. In things that were more than they appeared. In people, who, to him, were oftentimes complicated and beautiful in their own way.

And it was Dumbledore who taught him to appreciate differences, to think rationally about the indefinable and to study things before drawing conclusions. It wasn't the easy way. But it was the better way – understanding the layers that people had.

He drained the last swallow of firewhiskey bottle as he sat on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack, the dust matted down in places with dried crusts of blood and fragments of animal hair. He ran a long finger absentmindedly over a deep scratch embedded into the wall then focused on a similarly shaped scar running across his palm.

"Moony?" Sirius stood on the edge of the stairs, peering at him hopefully with the marauder map folded in his lowered hand.

"You've been in here for three hours. Curfew began almost an hour ago…not that we care about curfew." he added with a grin.

"So you waited until lights out to come and get me?"

"Might as well make it more interesting."

He sat beside Remus and James fell in by his other slumped shoulder. He hadn't realized the chill that shrouded the shack after sundown until their body heat fell on either side of him.

"I didn't realize it was so late….just had some things to think about."

"And drink about?" James held up the empty bottle and Remus grinned and looked at Potter sheepishly. "Did this come from our secret stash under the shack floorboards?"

"Yeah. I'll replace it."

James nudged Remus with his shoulder and smiled.

"No need, mate. That's what it's for. Emergencies."

"Peter told us about what Rookwood said in class today," Sirius said immediately. "It took him a few hours to realize you must have been upset after hearing our enlightened professor tell the entire class that werewolves were slavering murderous monsters 24/7 and all."

"He just figured that out?"

"Peter's not the brightest star in the sky, you know. Why do you give a rat's ass what old Rock Woody thinks anyway?" James said, almost angrily.

"It's not just what he thinks, James. He's teaching this to everyone. He'll help determine what all our classmates think about people like me for the rest of their lives."

"Yeah, but he's still a stupid git. Not everyone's gonna listen to him."

"Many will…..but I won't. I'm going to go talk to him." Remus made to get up and Sirius looked panicked, a rare look for him.

"What, now? Right now?"

"Right now."

"Can't stop you?" James called out.

"Nope."

Sirius and James watched Remus totter carefully down the stairs, and Potter made to get up and go after him, but Sirius stopped him with a sudden hand.

"No, let him go, mate. He has to do this. Might as well be now so he can sleep tonight."

Then Black narrowed his eyes as the seed of pure wanton destruction took plant in his mind.

"I'm sure there are….things….we can do, Messr. Prongs, that don't involve discussion."

And James let out a low chuckle and nodded his head, the cogs already turning.

Before Remus even had a chance to acknowledge that his body was moving through the dark and empty hallways, he found himself in front of Professor Rookwood's study and knocked.

A distracted "yes" came from the room and Remus pushed the door open to find Rookwood huddled over his desk, quill scratching at the papers in front of him. He looked up briefly then back down again without bothering to stop his grading.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin. What is it."

He stopped suddenly and checked his watch before returning to his papers.

"I believe it's after curfew and you're out of bed…without permission, I daresay."

"Yes, Professor. Can I ask you some questions?"

"Yes, you may. Then off to bed with you."

"I don't expect long answers."

Rookwood looked up at that, gauging Remus over his half-moon frames a moment before sighing and leaning back in his chair a bit, folding his hands across his plump stomach.

"….Alright."

"Am I a good student?"

"Yes, you are."

"I turned in my assignments on time? Get good grades? Put forth an effort?"

"Always."

"Have I helped you, in the past, with your personal work by staying after class and doing things for you, even if they didn't provide me with extra credit?"

"Many times, actually."

"Am I an intelligent human being?"

"Yes. You're very bright."

"From a teacher's perspective, do you think I have fellow classmates who value me as a friend?"

"I'm not sure I agree with your taste in friends, but I'd say that you do."

"Knowing me to the extent that you do, would you call me a good person?"

"Yes, Mr. Lupin, I would."

"Am I a werewolf, Professor Rookwood?"

Rookwood leaned forward and gauged Remus more seriously than he had before.

"Mr. Lupin….ahem….I teach what the Ministry's educational agency sets forth as the guidelines for what should be taught to our youth and in what manner. What I covered today is the approved theory on dark creatures and their integration into our society. It is my job to teach what I'm told."

"Professor Rookwood, your teaching strategies, however party line they may be, are your own. I'm just asking: am I a werewolf?"

"According to Professor Dumbledore, yes. You are."

"So I'm a good student, a good friend, a fastidious learner, an intelligent human being, and a werewolf. What is my most defining characteristic?"

With a nonplussed, almost neutral expression, Rookwood remained silent and ran a thumb across the large signet ring on his index finger.

"From what you said in class today, none of those other things matter. I'm a werewolf, first and foremost. Unable to escape from my darkness."

When Rookwood just continued to look at him evenly, Remus walked carefully and not too straightly to a chair and sat across from him, picked up the crystal ball from his desk, held it pensively in his hands for a moment before carefully placing it back in its cradle.

"Professor, there is blackness in this world destitute of all hope for salvation. But, all things considered, there is very little of it. And where it exists, it **should** be destroyed. But there is no pure light, only those who strive for it, every day of their lives, and often fail…I am many things. None of them more than the other. I can't cure my Lycanthropy, but I can choose to be equally human. And I do. Every day….. Don't paint me black, Professor Rookwood. I'm….I'm grey. Just like everything else in this world that's decent in one way or another."

"Mr. Lupin….have you been drinking tonight?"

"Yes sir."

"I thought so. You're an eloquent drunk, I must say."

"Thank you."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for possessing a forbidden substance on school grounds. I don't have the alcohol in hand, but your demeanor and your admission are evidence enough that some has been consumed. And another twenty points from Gryffindor as curfew occurred nearly an hour ago, and you should be tucked in your four poster as we speak. Do you need an escort back to your room?"

"No."

"Then good night, Mr. Lupin."

When Remus pushed open the door to their room, he could already hear Peter's muffled snoring but Sirius and James' silhouettes were visible in the window's moonlight as they hastily put things away.

"Getting rid of incriminating evidence?" he said, surprised to find a grin playing across his face.

Sirius conjured a small ball of flame in his hand that flared and lit up the practically demonic joy emanating from him.

"If you only knew. So you talked to him?"

"I tried."

"And?"

"He's a pathetic old git, basically."

"Well, we expected as much. Don't worry mate, while you were in there keeping him occupied, we exacted some true revenge."

Remus flopped down on the bed, suddenly tired beyond belief.

"Revenge?"

James pulled off his shirt and said, with his most grown-up, formal voice.

"Oh, you know, the usual mature solutions to big problems. Dung bombs in his bed, bogey ball grenades in his butter beer stash, infinite itching powder in his underwear drawer. And despite being one of the ugliest people I've ever known, he's also one of the vainest. So puss boil spells in his beauty bar seemed like an obvious choice."

"And that's just the first wave." Sirius said with a grin and collapsed on Remus' bed. After a moment of consideration, he added sagely, "I have to say, that's the most damage we've managed to wreak in such a short period of time. He'll be finding little surprises the entire term. And being the beacon of knowledge that he is, I'm sure he has no idea how to decontaminate the place properly…..But, mostly importantly, he's vain enough to hide in his room for the rest of the week if he uses that soap. And if McGonagall subs for him, she won't be finishing up that lesson with the same kind of remarks, I can tell you that."

Remus mused about McGonagall possibly saving the lesson with a voice of reason….then pictured Rookwood picking up his soap bar in the morning, with disastrous results.

"Rookwood covered in giant zits and itching his arse raw tomorrow…." Remus let out a huge laugh. "I should feel guilty about it, but Merlin…all I can say is 'job well done'."

"Don't mention it, Moony." Potter said as he climbed into bed. "Believe me, it was our pleasure."

Sirius ruffled his hair as he got up, and Remus was surprised to see a flicker of deep-seated anger in his eyes when he said, lowly and adamantly, "No one hurts my friends and gets away with it."

And Remus, emotionally exhausted and slightly drunk, stood up to hook an arm around Sirius to hug him close.

_Where would I be without them…_

* * *

"I see you were studying dark creatures. I also see the notes that Professor Rookwood had for this lesson and feel that I should add a few remarks to even out any damage he might have wreaked. 

Despite what your **current** DADA professor may have told you, numerous werewolves and other dark creatures live amongst us with few problems. They are, in many respects, simply our fellow wizards and witches. And the fact that they live amongst us and we may not know them as such shows there is far more to them than the darkness that you've been warned against.

We all have the propensity for being dangerous creatures, do we not? Remember that the next time you're quick to throw stones without evidence."

Minerva went on with the rest of her lesson but gave Remus the briefest of glances as he left the classroom, and his sincere eyes bespoke his gratefulness.

He would learn later that there were times to walk away from prejudice and times to stand up to it, each instance exacting its own price for acknowledgement or withdraw.

But all Remus really wanted from life was to accept and to be accepted. He didn't deny his darkness. He just wanted people to see light within him and acknowledge that he could rise above the creature that clutched at his very soul.

Meanwhile, he dealt with the same inner wars that everyone else did. He merely had to fight harder. And fighting harder made him stronger. In years to come, when the darkness encroached ever-so-closer on their world and time could no longer tether Voldemort's return, Remus would come to depend on that strength. And so would many who loved him.

Who would guess that a shabby, out-of-work werewolf would provide the glue that bound The Order of the Phoenix together? But it did. Quite aptly. And Rookwood, an ardent Deatheater in his later years, found it interesting, as well.

**tbc**


	5. Nineteen, Lily

_Author's Note: This installment builds on a moment from the PoA film that I always found interesting. Please let me know what you think._

**

* * *

****Random Acts**

"**Year Nineteen"**

"_Friendship multiplies the good of life and divides the evil."_

_Baltasar Gracian, 1647_

* * *

God it had hurt, the iron brand magically transfixed with his number searing into his flesh. Werewolf Registry Number 032061. He'd never forget the smell of skin-gorged smoke wafting across his face, pain white across his eyelids as he bit down on the pain bar they thrust in his mouth. 

The 'torture artist' threw out his cigarette nonchalantly, spelled the brand to change a digit and pulled the next werewolf forward, a young boy whose screams followed Remus as he walked down the ministry hall with his papers clenched and nearly shredded in his shaking hand. The man had never even looked at him, never met his eyes. He might as well be in a slaughterhouse…or a detainment center….or Hell…

Bright hall light blinded him and the world spun. Someone walked by. And another. Voices coming and going as he leaned over and retched on the white scrubbed floor. He didn't even remember turning in his paperwork or coming home. But here he sat on his moth-eaten couch, pen and pad in hand. And Lily Evans stood in the doorway.

"Hello, Lily. Please go."

"James said you'd say as much, that you'd be fine." She put on the tea kettle and placed some bags on the table.

"James knows better than to keep hounding me."

"Well…he and Sirius… they just don't know what to do sometimes. Other than learn to be animagi….or take you out to get stinking drunk. And you turned them down on drinks." She walked into the living room and hunkered down in front of him with her hands on his knees.

"And Peter," she laughed ruefully. "Peter has never been able to sympathize with anyone but himself, really. But he said to tell you 'hello'." She wrapped her arms around his calves and gave them a small hug.

"Talk to me."

"Lily, I'm not up for company."

She removed the pen and paper from his lap and put them on the coffee table. "You can tell the boys that, but it doesn't work on me…..are you alright?"

He shook his head, eyes still not meeting hers, and she sat down beside him and took his hand, leaning over to try and meet his eyes.

"I brought some curry from the place down your block. I thought you might be hungry."

"I don't want to eat……or talk."

She leaned back slowly, still holding his hand, and made it known, though obstinate silence, that she wasn't leaving. After a very long moment, Remus half turned to her and pulled his hand away.

"Lily….I don't want…don't **need** tea and sympathy right now. I have a lot of things I need to think about…In many ways, my life is no longer my own….. I've got a brand on my chest now that tells the entire world what I am."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, "They put it on your chest?"

"Here…near my heart," he mumbled with a quick point and looked away.

She reached her hand up to draw his eyes back to her but he pulled his head away and she stood up to gauge him worriedly as she wiped her eyes and steadied herself.

"Tea and sympathy won't kill you, Remus. You shouldn't be alone, especially now…."

He watched her walk to the small closet in the hallway and remove the extra pillow and blanket she knew he kept there then he dropped his head, studying the listless hands in his lap.

"Lily….you're practically a married woman. James wouldn't want you staying over here."

"I'll sleep there on the couch. You're my friend. You need someone to look after you…." She put the bed things beside him and hunkered down once more, took his hands in hers. Remus studied the complicated, sublime lines of their intertwined fingers and palms. Years later, he would draw those hands from memory and still be able to feel the warmth and strength they gave. "I'm not going anywhere, so don't try and talk me out of it. Won't do you any good."

Remus provided her with the faintest of smiles, but it didn't travel to his eyes or his soul. When he really smiled and meant it, Remus was practically lit from within, and she vowed to stay put until she saw that light again.

"You need to get some sleep."

She pulled the thick cotton jumper slowly over his head and gasped to find a hastily applied, blood-drenched bandage taped above his heart.

"Merlin, Remus." Lily walked hurriedly into the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, fresh bandages, and medicines. And without moving, Remus' body stiffened, a small sound coming from his throat when she touched the brand lightly with a potion-soaked rag.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and cupped his face with one hand as she carefully cleaned the wound.

"Remus, you know we're still writing letters, making petitions. We can still get these new rules appealed."

"….It's too late for talk."

After she fastened the clean bandage, Lily nudged his ear with her nose and gently kissed the tender skin below his lobe.

"Close your eyes. Rest. Everything will be better tomorrow. I promise."

"No…"

"I promise you…..time will help. Tomorrow, we'll go get breakfast and…maybe we'll go to the countryside. Get some fresh air. Get you out of the city for a bit. And then when we get back, we'll keep making noise about the new laws. We won't let people turn the other way on this."

"They already have," he said quietly as he lay down on the couch and curled on his side, away from her. Soon after his breathing became steady and quiet. She sat in the chair, watching him, hoping he'd find some reprieve in slumber and relax into the comfortable arms of somnolence when he stirred and said quietly, "Lily?...When you're a married woman…."

"What, Remus?" She moved from the floor to sit on the edge of the couch and turned him to her, leaning in and touching his hair. He focused on a spot over her shoulder, then closed his eyes, afraid to see her reaction.

"…Even after you're married…..will you sometimes think on our night in the field? It's selfish of me…"

But when he opened his eyes and managed to look into Lily's, he found her pupils dark with the raw passion they remembered.

"You were my first."

"And you were mine. You know nothing will ever change that. But you pulled away from me, Remus. You ran from me for so long. And while you were running, James was there."

"I know," he said gently, knowing it was true, having heard it before from both his own mind and her lips. And Sirius'….And James', for that matter. Her reaction had changed from anger a year ago to the regret he saw in her face today.

"James will take care of you."

"You could have taken care of me, too," she admitted quietly.

"No."

She knew better than to try and argue with him, knew the way he felt, that his Lycanthropy made it impossible for him to live a normal life, and by proxy, would force anyone who loved him into a life of abnormality, as well.

"I could never imprison the ones I love." Her gentle hand threaded into his hair, and he shut his eyesto drank in the touch.

"Remus, I never saw your love as imprisonment. On the contrary, loving you felt like freedom. Still does. For the rest of my days, I'll always love you….always…..you should know that…go to sleep."

When he woke up later, he found her partially sitting up on the floor with her head curled into his and her hand resting on his stomach. He pulled her up onto the couch and she sleepily went - the two of them a tight fit but neither complaining. He noticed how, even in her sleep, she worked her way around the brand, careful not to hurt him.

And when they woke up in the morning, she took him to the country.

And Remus forgot the emotional and physical pain of the brand. At least for that day.

They hiked to a magical waterfall that only wizards could see and Lily smiled as Remus, in his comforting, professor-like way, told her about grindylows and other creatures that lived in such waters.

She got him to laugh by reminding him of times long gone and moments they had shared in more carefree days. She packed Honeyduke's Finest chocolate, chicken salad sandwiches and Earl Grey tea, his favorites, and they had a comforting, drawn-out lunch under an enormous willow tree.

And before long, she saw in the stunning blue depths of his eyes that perfect light that Remus emanated when a smile reached his soul. It took everything she had to not break down in tears of relief as she moved around to hug him from behind, her cheek nestled into his shoulder blades and her arms warm around the responsive skin of his stomach.

And in the waning hours of the day, they stood by the lakeside watching a beautiful soft sun dip toward the greens and browns of the earth. They talked of her love of children and her desire to start a family. Remus skipped a rock across the glassy water then turned to her and said with a wistful smile, "I can't wait to look after the kids when you and James are off on vacation, take them for walks in the countryside. Give them sweets when you're not looking…. Be Uncle Remus."

"Merlin, I hope you do! But, Remus, my father is a dentist. Sweets are where I draw the line."

"Candy is medicinal," he said, walking over to offer her a square even though he knew she'd say 'no'.

She covered the hand that proffered the chocolate with both of hers and, for a brief moment, looked both wonderfully content and mildly afraid.

"Remus….James and I..and our children, we'll always be your family. Please…" She squeezed his hands and he squeezed back. "Promise you'll never walk out of my life…out of our lives."

"Family." he repeated carefully, his face mild and thoughtful.

"Family. Always and forever." And despite herself, she stretched upward on her toes to kiss him gently and chastely on the lips then looked back to gauge him. Remus stared at her intently then smiled and slung an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. They watched the last of the sun disappear into the water, streaks of silver fading away. Then hand in hand, the two friends walked through the meadow, their quiet voices resonating in the cool, windless sky.

Remus never admitted to anyone that just minutes before Lily arrived, he had stood in front of his cracked bathroom mirror, knife in hand, his eyes fixed sternly on the cheap blood-sopped cloth hanging tenaciously to his chest, beads of blood forming on the shiny impermeable surface of the tape. His hand rose, trembling, to pull at the bandage as outside footfalls drew nearer.

Remus had decided to cut the burn out of his chest, even though he knew from fine print in the legislation paperwork that the brand was magically connected to his heart, that he'd bleed to death without it. But he had thought better to die…..better to die with his head held high than live in a world that would punish a good person for a bad misfortune.

Not that he longed for death. But his life hadn't seemed as important as making a statement on the insufferable state of things. He had sat down - just for a moment - to make his final statement.

And then Lily arrived.

Beautiful Lily….who made him forget the present just long enough to reveal the glimmer of a better tomorrow. And become himself again.

**tbc**


	6. Twentysix, Harry

**Random Acts**

"**Year Twenty-Six"**

* * *

"_What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life – to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories."_

_George Eliot_

* * *

Remus tenderly cuddled the sleeping baby Harry, reassured by the infant's steady breath falling on his neck. 

"Remus, lad…I tol'ya….Dumbledore'll be waitin'…an' best not to worry him with all the ill doin' about."

Remus nodded again, his face crumbling as he lowered Harry from his shoulder and readjusted the soft blanket. Remus had rescued Harry from the Potter home, now little more than "the scene of the crime," crawling with aurors and frightened onlookers. He had stood in the middle of his own kitchen, holding Harry protectively to his chest with wand at the ready for three fretful hours before Hagrid arrived with a letter from Dumbledore.

The hulking giant was beginning to wonder if he'd have to bodily remove the baby from the young man's arms.

"I have to take 'im, son. Dumbledore says 'is aunt's blood'll protect 'im. Make 'em safe."

"I know, Hagrid." Remus agreed quietly. "It's just hard…to let him go. I feel like I'm sending him into the enemy's den."

"S'hard for me, as well…seein' 'im off to live with those Muggles? But it's Petunia's blood he needs. No other can keep 'im safe, jus' like Dumbledore told'ya in the letter."

"If I had been there..."

"You'd 'av been killed, as well. No sense dwellin' on it….It's alright, lad…pass'im to me." Hagrid moved forward the final distance and took Harry carefully from Remus' protective arms.

"Wait, Hagrid…."

Remus rummaged through a small paper album on his desk to find the picture he wanted – Lily and James in front a fountain, Fall leaves drifting downward as they danced – so happy, so in love. He stared at the picture numbly then spelled it to freeze and slipped it into the folds of Harry's blankets, carefully took the bandage off Harry's forehead to check the lightning shaped wound.

"How will you get there?"

"I reckon by floo then walk the rest."

"Take Sirius' motorcycle…out back."

"Ya sure?"

"I never want to see it again."

Hagrid nodded and followed Remus' eyes to look down at his charge.

"Goodbye, Harry. I'll think of you everyday. I'll….I'll remember for you. Every day of my life." Tears fell down Remus' face as he murmured brokenly, "Sweet Harry…" and kissed the sleeping baby's cheek.

* * *

Remus sat at the playground picnic table and watched the kids play as they waited for parents and guardians to pick them up from school. Aside from the games they played and the clothes they wore, the behavior of Muggle children didn't seem to differ much from that of wizarding youth. Even at 6-years-old, they appeared to have their hierarchies, their cliques…and their outcasts. 

Harry stood on the periphery, throwing a small ball up into the air and easily catching it. Every once in a while, between throws, he'd look over at the other children, longing evident in tiny frame.

Dumbledore was furious when he found out Remus had taken a job as, oddly enough, Harry's Muggle substitute teacher. The werewolf kept close tabs on the boy, as close as he could without breaking The Rules. And he knew he had overstepped the boundary, but he couldn't help it. When Harry's teacher scheduled some minor surgery (plastic surgery, he found out, but that was none of his business) Remus showed up at the principal's door with a Muggle resume and a firm handshake. But tomorrow the teacher would return. And just as well since Dumbledore gave him one day, no more no less, to say 'goodbye' and fade out of the boy's carefully guarded life once again.

Remus looked from Harry to his sketchbook, where a picture of the solitary boy took shape in soft charcoal tones.

_The last day…_

But when he gazed up once more, he found Harry looking in his direction, seeming to sense Remus' focus.

Lupin leaned forward with his elbows on the table and sent him a small smile. And Harry, grateful for acknowledgement, beamed and ambled over to him.

"Mr. Sumer!"

"Hello, Harry," Remus said cheerfully.

Harry pocketed the small ball and climbed up onto the bench across from Remus.

"What're doing?"

He hesitated a moment before turning the sketchbook around so Harry could see.

"That's me!"

Remus nodded, smiling.

"Why did you draw me?"

"Oh…this is my last day. And I guess I'm a bit sad. I'll miss seeing you, Harry….. I'll miss teaching you and the others. And sometimes….I draw to remember."

"You won't be back?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"No, I'll….I won't be substituting any more. Ms. March will be back tomorrow."

"But what if she has to go have her nose operated on again? What if her big nose grows back?"

Remus looked away to hide a grin. Even the kids knew. "I don't imagine that will happen, Harry."

Remus felt a guilty pleasure to suddenly realize that in two short weeks Harry had become attached to him, had enjoyed his presence in the school. His heart warmed, reliving an old feeling that always wrapped around him like a favorite blanket. Small Harry's love.

Hadn't baby Harry loved him? Uncle Remus, who could calm Harry when others couldn't. Baby Harry, who would cling to Lily or James when others came to visit but would lean forward for him, reaching out with his tiny little fingers when Remus would put his gentle hands forward and ask, "Would you come see Uncle Remus?" And every time, James would point out, "You're the only other person he'll go to, Moony!"

But now Harry looked so sad. And it was his fault.

_Here you are, in your selfishness, creating more loss in his life. You came into his world and befriended him when you knew you couldn't stay. _

Remus hung his head guiltily then carefully tore the drawing out of his sketchbook and gave it to the small boy.

"You should have this."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "But I want you to remember me, Mr. Sumer!" he said, pushing the portrait back towards his teacher.

"Oh, I don't need a picture for that." Remus said quietly with a smile.

Harry picked up the drawing and studied it carefully, then his thoughtful eyes flitted over the top of the paper and looked at Remus for a moment before he put the picture back down decisively.

"I'll draw a picture for you, then. And we can trade!"

Remus smiled in encouragement and nodded; and when Harry pulled out a sheet of crumpled paper from his backpack, Remus offered him his sketchbook instead. He was surprised to find the boy drawing multiple people on the page.

_Probably him and the Dursley's._

After several minutes of intense work, Harry looked at the picture for a moment, then up at Remus, his legs swinging back and forth in the air underneath the bench. And as final hesitant additions, he drew the lightning shaped scar on his own forehead and the two scars that fell across Remus' face then turned the book around for him to see.

"That's my Mum. And my Dad. That's me. And that's you!"

Remus froze. _Do you remember them? Remember me? You were so small.. _

For a long moment, Remus just stared at the paper then looked up to find the young boy looking at him with anticipation._   
_

"Harry….it's lovely….but why did you draw me here, with your Mum and Dad?"

"Because I like you. You've been nice to me…and you're going away…you're going away, also. These are people that I wish I had with me that can't be here anymore."

Remus knew Harry wanted him to ask, give him a reason to explain. But he still felt reticent to ask questions when he already knew the answers, knew so much more than Harry did.

"Your Mum and Dad can't be with you?"

Harry looked at the picture intently. "My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember them. But I still love them. They're still my Mum and Dad even though I feel sometimes like we never met…you know…because I don't remember," Harry added in a small voice.

"Your parents will always be with you, in your heart, Harry. They…I'm sure they loved you dearly."

"Do you think it's wrong? Is it silly? That I pretend they're here with me when I draw?"

"No, Harry, not at all."

"You know how you said you draw things to remember them? 'Cos when I draw things, it's like they are real. Even though they never happened. So when I draw me and my Mum and Dad and we're all together, I make it real for me. I can feel Mum holding my hand almost. And it makes me happy to see us all together. I can't have the memories, but I can draw them. And they feel as real…as real as this." Harry reached across the table and poked Remus lightly on the chest with his finger.

"I understand, Harry. I really do. It's not silly at all."

Remus had to smile at the picture of him, skinny and tall with a ratty hole in his undersized jacket that didn't pass Harry's note. And Harry's ragged hand-me-downs, too big on his underfed body, were drawn crumpled around the edges.

Remus' eyes roamed to the other two figures. Lily and James wore clothing from the photo Remus had put in Harry's blanket years ago. Lily's beautiful long red hair flowing underneath her faded black cap, and James' glasses and disheveled locks. Young Harry had practically memorized the photograph, down to the grey wool scarf curled around his father's lapels.

"See, you have that _Johnny Tremain_ book in your hand! And in the picture, you come over and read to me on the weekends and help me with my homework. And take me to Hyde Park for chocolate ice cream!"

Remus laughed. "Chocolate is my favorite flavor, too."

"I knew it would be… 'cos Mr. Sumer, we're the same in a lot of things."

"How is that, Harry?"

"Do you get all your clothes from a relative?"

Remus had to laugh again. Harry was so observant, so much his mother's child.

"Not from relatives, but you're right. Most of my clothes are owned by someone else first."

Harry smiled. "Mine, too. And we both have scars."

"Yes," said Remus quietly.

"I put the scars in because I like to draw things as real as I can, 'cos that makes the things that aren't real…"

Remus nodded and finished for him. "Seem more real? Like your Mum and Dad with you?"

"Mmhm." Harry pulled the picture back to his side again and studied it for a moment.

"Do you want them on the picture? Your scars? I can take them off, if you want."

The question surprised Remus as did the look of stricken embarrassment on Harry's face when he asked.

"They're a part of who I am, Harry. I couldn't hide them, even if I wanted to."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes."

"Someone hurt you?" he whispered.

Remus chose his words carefully. "An animal hurt me."

"Were you afraid?"

He couldn't exactly tell Harry that after retransformations, he often regained consciousness to find his body covered in gaping, bleeding wounds. How could he explain the utter terror of thinking, so many times in that moment of awakening, that he might have torn himself to shreds beyond all hope of healing?

"Yes, I was afraid. But I'm still alive. I have more scars than these, Harry. They remind me that I'm strong enough to overcome hardship and pain…that I'm stronger than the…the things that might try to hurt me. I imagine yours says the same thing about you."

Harry shrugged.

"Do you mind it so much? Your scar?"

"No…but kids make fun of me, so it's better to hide it."

_One day, you'll meet kids who won't laugh. _

"But I drew mine when I drew yours so you remember you're not the only one."

Remus smiled, feeling odd for receiving such a random consolation from small Harry, whom he had comforted so many times as a baby. And Harry handed the picture once again to Remus, who kept his head down as the picture blurred, his eyes filling with tears he couldn't fight.

"Thank you for the drawing, Harry. It's very nice."

_It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given him…_

* * *

The picture hung framed on his wall wherever he went. It hadn't been much from Harry's point of view, a scribble made in passing, but to Remus it was an encapsulation of a cherished reality that never happened. A false memory, really, but one alive in Harry's mind so vividly for that one childhood moment. James and Lily and their beautiful son. And Mr. Sumer, who came for dinner on Sundays and read him books as he fell asleep in the chair. More than once, he went to Hyde Park and bought ice cream then sat with his sketchbook under a broad tree, and remembering Harry's lack of friends, drew him playing with others, smiling and content. 

_Not so silly a thing to do, Harry. To wish you could have as your reality a moment from your mind, a drawing on a page._

When he came to Hogwarts, Lupin hesitated to display the picture but kept it in his drawer. But at Grimmauld, it hung on his wall once again, a garish spot of poignancy on the otherwise dismal walls that recorded the overbearing weight of the Black family lineage.

After Sirius had died, Harry came into Lupin's room one evening to check on the bedridden werewolf, who was slowly recovering from a bad transformation. He sat on the bed's edge, chatting and watching Remus carefully drink the tea he had brought, when his eyes caught the framed picture on the opposite wall, a picture usually covered by the open door. Harry walked toward it as if pulled beyond his control and studied the drawing, touched it with his fingertips and without turning to Remus said, "You were Mr. Sumer."

Remus shifted in the bed, a bit embarrassed.

"For a short time, yes. I always wondered if you remembered. I just…I never knew how to mention it. Or even if I should. I broke rules to see you, Harry. It was selfish of me."

He turned and gave Remus an affectionate smile. "It was brave of you. I didn't recognize you on the train, that first day, though."

"Well, we had that dementor issue to deal with, didn't we."

Harry's smile widened. "That we did….But our first day of class? When Peeves was tormenting you in the hallway and you shot gum at him? You turned and smiled at us and I thought, "_Mr. Sumer_!"

Remus laughed and sat up from his pillow. "Dumbledore was not happy about my stint as your substitute teacher, I can tell you that."

"And you've kept this, all these years?"

"It's gone with me everywhere."

"Why?"

Remus didn't know if Harry would comprehend, but there was only one way to explain. "I've kept it for the same reasons that you drew it."

To others, it might have been a cryptic response. But not to Harry. He understood completely.

Days later as the Weasley's, Harry and Remus sprawled about the sitting room in various quiet states of homework and reading, Harry looked lost in thought, then left and came back moments later with the drawing in hand. He glanced at Remus for a moment who, unsure of his intentions, just smiled carefully and nodded.

Harry took the picture from the frame and with a set of colored pencils retrieved from the desk, slowly and meticulously added Sirius, extending his arm to rest on Remus' shoulder, drawn nearly a decade ago.

A family of five in spirit.

"I suck at art, but…."

Remus studied the addition with a smile. Aside from a cleanness to the lines of Sirius, he was not drawn so differently as the rest of them; but Harry had captured Sirius' intensity with a steady gaze, and the Marauder in him emanated from his impish grin.

And in the main Grimmauld hallway replete with severe portraits, velvet curtains, and heavy wood, Harry and Remus carefully hung the small, bright portrait.

Remus felt hot tears fall down his cheeks and brushed them away, trying to hold his emotions in check. "He would have liked that."

"He would have, wouldn't he.…I've wanted to draw him all week. It just seemed…It makes things easier, for some reason."

Remus put an arm around his godson and gave him a reassuring hug and Harry nodded and sighed heavily then looked towards the door, restless. "We've been in here all day. Let's go somewhere, get out of here."

Remus stood silent for a moment before he asked quietly, "Would you like to go get ice cream at Hyde Park?"

"Chocolate?" Harry asked hopefully.

Remus swallowed back his emotions as he straightened the picture and touched its edge carefully, then he looked back at Harry with a bittersweet expression.

"Chocolate would be nice."

**_

* * *

_****_tbc _**

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to any readers who have lost a loved one. _

_A scene from Remus' final moments as a Hogwarts professor will be next._

_Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed! Your feedback really keeps me motivated. :)_


	7. Thirtyfour, Minerva

_Author's Note: I imagine everyone, even Remus, needs a good swift kick in the hindquarters from time-to-time. This is his. Hope you enjoy it! _

* * *

**Random Acts**

"**Year Thirty-Four"**

"_Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves."_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

The professor…._former_ professor limped out of the austere Hogwarts bastion and into the bright sunlight of a new day, bereft of promise. 

Cane in one hand and grindylow tank tucked firmly under an elbow, string-tied suitcase barely holding on by several fingers underneath it, he limped toward the carriage waiting to collect its fare.

"Professor Lupin!"

Footfalls heavy and fast behind him.

"Professor Lupin….." the boy breathed heavily.

"Hello, Neville."

"It's true? You're leaving?" he said, gasping for air.

Remus nodded and forced a small smile.

"They say you're a werewolf…Is that true, too?"

"Yes….Yes, Neville. It is…." He reached to put a hand on the boy's shoulder then thought better of it. "You must…I hope you can understand that I've had no choice in what I am. And I did try to ensure that my employment here would not jeopardize the safety of you and the other students. I hope you believe me when I say that."

"Yeah! Of course I do."

Remus looked at the carriage seat, slightly embarrassed at getting caught so close to departure.

"You've been a good student, Neville. I've enjoyed teaching you and the others. And…" He put his cane in the seat and finally rested a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "I wish you the very best of luck in life. Take care of yourself. And your grandmother," he added with a strained smile as he disappeared into the black coach.

Neville looked after the retreating carriage with his mouth slightly open, a hurt expression on his face. The one professor who accepted him entirely for who he was, who had challenged him and knew he could best the challenge, was leaving. And now, just the top of the carriage peeked over the hill, the horses' hooves clopping faintly then diminishing into the still afternoon.

The fare would take him to Hogsmeade, where he hoped to get a room for the night. Pomfrey had wanted him to stay in the infirmary. Dumbledore had wanted him to stay in his rooms. Remus wanted to flee as soon as possible.

A very old, very powerful urge to run had kicked in, and he had needed to go, needed to move on, not because of some worry that he would be hurt, tortured, or chased down by an angry mob. Although those were actual possibilities when people discovered a werewolf had been living amongst them, masquerading as what they would no doubt call "one of us."

No, he was simply hauling away a deep sense of guilt, hiding it from others by hiding himself. He couldn't face the students, the faculty, the owls swooping in from every which way demanding his dismissal. He had let them all down. And he knew it. Not by being a werewolf. But by having a strict regimen he needed to adhere to in order to maintain their safety. And he hadn't done it.

_Such a simple thing. Take the potion twice a day, seven days before the moon. Look at what--__  
_

The pocket watch in his trousers chimed at two, reminding him to take the wolfsbane. In a fit of uncharacteristic anger, he unclipped the watch and threw it out the carriage window and then, in spite of himself, allowed himself a small self-deprecating smile.

Pulling into small, sprawling Hogsmeade, the carriage let him out in front of The Three Broomsticks, where Madame Rosmerta peaked through a distorted window and disappeared only to quickly emerge from the door. She looked around nervously then pushed him into the small side alley beside the tavern.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

He nodded his head with a wary smile. "It appears that word travels fast…Is…is there a room I could purchase for the night? I'm really not up for traveling and need a place to rest before I head all the way home."

"Remus.." she said sadly, touching the deep talon punctures on the side of his face. "They won't let you stay here. Everyone…everyone knows. And there are lots of rumors flying around."

"I see."

"But you can stay with me tonight. It's not far from here at all."

He glanced down to find his hands held together between her lightly stroking fingers and felt immediately uncomfortable. He didn't want pity right now. He didn't deserve it.

"No, Rosie. Most of Hogsmeade would see that as consorting with the enemy…I wouldn't do that to you. Thank you for letting me know to be careful today. I'm…"

He looked up, searching the streets for a moment, actually wondering where he would go when he saw the shrieking shack in the distance, groaning and swaying slightly on its foundation.

"I'll stay at the shack and leave in the morning."

Rosmerta averted her eyes to the dilapidated building then looked back at Remus with concern.

"Remus, the shack is haunted! You don't want to go in there."

He laughed. "If you still believe that, Madame, apparently not all rumors make it into the mill." When he picked up the suitcase and tank and leaned on his cane, she said, "Wait here" and returned moments later with a small bundle.

"Rosie, I'll be fine. I don't need anything."

"Take it, Remus!" she blurted, desperately wanting to help him in some way. She hooked the parcel through a strap on his worn suitcase then stepped back, eyes roaming over him worriedly but not knowing what else to say. "Promise you'll let me know how you're doing? That you'll keep in touch?"

He nodded, a worn expression on his face as he traced his eyes across the building, remembering all the butterbeers, the firewhiskeys, good meals and laughter he had shared with her and others in that tavern. "Thank you for the good memories, Rosie."

She moved forward silently to kiss him on the cheek, letting her lips linger and her fingertips brush against his ear. And he was surprised to see her tear up before she fled inside, obviously not wanting him to see her cry. His eyes lingered on the shut door, cane loosely in his grasp, as he ran the back of his hand over the spot her lips had touched.

_She fancied me…Imagine what her life would be like right now if we had dated. _

Remus ducked his head and hobbled across the street to begin a furtive trek towards the shack.

It was time to get his life in order, to go back to the way things were. Time to face reality, instead of attempting to live a life he simply couldn't have. He could still feel Rosmerta's gentle lips pressed against his scarred cheek and shook his head roughly against the young memory of her lingering, intimate touch.

_Time to own up to the reality of being a werewolf, Lupin. Time to stop being selfish. Learn to be practical about things again._

Last night, he had entered the shack quickly, not sparing a moment to muse about this terrible place. He had run up the stairs and burst through the barred door to find Sirius and the children. And from that point on, he had a job to do. He hadn't thought about what had happened there, over and over again so many years ago.

But now, as he trudged up the stairs with his head hung low, ill memories crept out of rotting baseboards like malevolent spirits and seeped into his mind. The narrow corridor wrapped him in an ugly embrace, it's joints creaking in dark and decrepit welcome. Once upon a time, this place had been both his prison and his salvation.

The alkaline smell of decayed blood and hair flared his nostrils and burned like tin against his teeth, tightened every inch of skin on his body and turned his stomach. It triggered memories of white blinding pain and mournful loneliness. And frustration. And complete and utter misery.

In the main room where he had spent many early hours of recovery, Remus deposited his things in the corner and tried to separate his mind from his surroundings. He pulled a filthy sheet off the ripped, loosely-filled mattress that lay crumpled in the corner and gave it a good pop then took off everything but his trousers and sat slumped on the edge of the mattress, resting on his palms and looking down.

One day at a time. Tomorrow, he'd return home where the note on the house was long taken care of, and the basement had a quite admirable cage, which he would desperately need again for lack of wolfsbane. As soon as he found some means to support himself again and fund a search, he'd start looking for Peter.

His bandaged hand reached absentmindedly to his chest and felt the waxen seared lines of his registry number. He didn't remember Peter transforming and retreating into the dark thickets of the forest. Dumbledore had to tell him that. No, the last thing he remembered before the wolf's soul swallowed him whole was Sirius' hand resting there on his body.

"This heart is where you truly live…This flesh is only flesh," he had said.

He remembered that. Remembered it twice. Words Sirius had told him long ago when he had first seen the number, still pink and scabby, on his friend's skin. But Sirius was wrong.

_I injured you…I could have hurt the children…and Snape, as well. And because of me, Pettigrew is probably sitting in Voldemort's lap by now. You were wrong, old friend. If I can't control the wolf, I'm little more than his most desperate urge. _

He felt sick…and disgusted….and was surprised to find that the smell of food emanating from Rosmerta's parcel made his stomach grumble with hunger. He untied the large white cloth to find a cool butterbeer and a large flask of firewhiskey, a roast beef sandwich on thick, heavy bread and a brown paper bag of freshly made crisps, dark with oil around its outer edges. Head down, he ate slowly, ignoring his surroundings and focusing on the flavors and textures. Comforted by the meal, he vowed to send Rosmerta something in return for her kindness as soon as he had settled down again.

_If I can settle down. What if word reached home? What if the house is destroyed?_

Suddenly exhausted, Remus lay down on the mattress and pulled the dirty sheet around himself; and despite the terrible burden of all the black thoughts roaring inside his head, he passed out, falling into an intricate mire of uncomfortable dreams.

* * *

"Is he alright?" 

"He's sleeping."

"No matter what he decides, he should come back for the night, Professor. So Poppy can look after him.

"Mr. Potter, you had to see with your own eyes that the citizens of Hogsmeade haven't. torn him from limb to limb. And here you have it. He'll be fine. Now I want you to go back to Gryffindor tower immediately. You can tell your friends that he's safe. But you are not to tell anyone that he's sleeping here tonight, do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Now back to your rooms."

Remus heard Harry mumble something under his breath and head down the creaking shack stairs."

Minerva and Harry…he had smelled them coming, but couldn't he just pretend to sleep? He didn't want any more goodbyes. No more pity, or judgment, or hate. No more waiting to figure out which one he'd have to deal with since everyone within fifty square miles knew about his Lyncanthropy by now. He just wanted to leave.

"Professor Lupin."

He was shocked to feel Minerva's light touch on his bare shoulder, bypassing the dirty sheet that covered the rest of him.

Remus opened his eyes and gauged her carefully.

"Are you trying that title on for one last time?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"Pomfrey wanted you to stay in the infirmary tonight. Why didn't you?"

"You knew I was leaving this afternoon, Minerva. You were there when Dumbledore arranged my fare."

"I realize that, of course," she said quietly. "But you could have stayed."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Albus told me you planned to stay in Hogsmeade for the night. And Madame Rosmerta told Harry and me that you came here because…because they wouldn't let you stay at The Three Broomsticks…" she ended, a bit of heartbreak in her voice.

"Yes, well…" Remus struggled to sit up with a small grunt and lit the room with his wand.

"You left without telling the children goodbye, Remus," she chastised in a voice he had heard many times as a Hogwarts student. "Miss Grainger and Ronald Weasley were particularly heartbroken. As was Neville Longbottom who, apparently, saw you off but felt like there were things he had wanted to say, and he did not have the opportunity to do so."

"Minerva…" he began with a sigh of resignation. "It was easier for everyone if I left quickly."

"Apparently, a great majority of your students do not agree with that assessment."

"Better to have me a stone's throw away when the potion hits the fan, is that it?" he said with a dark smile. Minerva stumbled on her thoughts for a moment, realizing Remus had expected little, if any, concern from his students.

"Albus summoned everyone to the great hall and explained your condition and your wolfsbane regimen in great detail…. And although it was not formally discussed, the students seem amply informed about what occurred last night."

"Word travels," he said with a guarded grin. She looked at him worriedly as he studied the far wall, adamant that he wouldn't meet her gaze. She finally looked away from him and sighed.

"Your students don't hate you, Remus. And they realize that we took precautions to make you safe."

"But uncaged, without the wolfsbane, I am NOT safe, Minerva. If it weren't for Hermoine and her quick thinking, several people could have died because of me. It just takes one day to forget. One day. It's not like remembering to spell out the garbage, you know. When it comes to Lycanthropy, there is no excuse for forgetting something as menial as a twice-a-day dosage."

"You went looking for the children, Remus. You realized Pettigrew was still alive, and they were in danger."

"That's the reason I forgot, but it makes for a pretty poor excuse." Remus got up and walked past her to the far wall, studied the chaotic rips and bloody scrawls peppering it, each one a specific yet unremembered moment in his past, combined into one memory now - a mass of unutterable terror.

"You'll explain to the students? That I would have never wanted to hurt them?"

"Remus, they know that."

He shook his head, refusing to believe.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

His carefully laid emotional barrier began to crumble. And suddenly, he felt Minerva's small hand on his back as she came around to look at him.

"I was your teacher for six years. And I've been your friend for many more."

He glanced at her briefly then looked back at the wall. And she suddenly realized that something was not right, something hard had crept into his eyes. She had always wondered how much Remus could take. Perhaps last night was the final straw.

"Young man, will you not talk to me?"

"Young man!" he laughed. A small smile lingered on his lips then died away.

"I forgot myself, Minerva. I forgot my place."

He touched a slash mark carefully then turned around to lean against the wall, hands thrust in pockets. Shirtless, unshaven and hair awry, his gaunt body covered in scars and wounds - he realized he was a sad shadow of the professional man who worked alongside her. And a far cry from the quiet, studious boy she had taught all those years ago.

"When I was younger, I used to think that I deserved the same things as other people, deserved a fair shot at a normal life. And I was angry because I wasn't given that. But now, I'm older…and wiser…and I've come to realize that…" He gave a strained, tight sigh, finding the words hard. "That there are some things that I cannot have. And attempting to have them is dangerous and harmful…for everyone. I've learned my lesson." He smiled and pushed off from the wall with his upper back and walked forward, finding a bit of professorial demeanor in himself again.

"What things, Remus."

He turned around to face her. "What things?"

"What are the things, may I ask? That you shouldn't expect to have?"

"Oh…" Remus sniffed thoughtfully, tracing his eyes. "Steady work….. Acceptance. "A…" He blushed slightly and wondered if he should utter his next thought. It had been on his mind an awful lot that year. "A woman's love. A family. A wife and children…. Purpose…I had it in the first war…and I was good for it. I was expendable, but I worked hard. I was needed."

"There's a difference between expecting something and deserving it, child. I understand that things have been difficult for you these past years, that you may feel…beaten down…and that you expect less from people sometimes, because you've experienced so much prejudice. But that doesn't mean you _deserve_ less than equal treatment."

"Really, Minerva? Perhaps all the legislation, the bigoted slants on my freedoms, are correct. Perhaps, by default, I don't merit a family, a job. I'm a danger to others. I don't know why I never saw it before, never saw things from the other point-of-view. I'm dangerous. People _should_ be afraid. People should be protected against me. It's obvious I can't always be responsible for my own precautions. Maybe I should be controlled."

Minerva looked like someone had just slapped her. "What did last night do to you? What are you saying?"

"I – "

"No, Remus! I'll have no more of this! I won't hear this kind of talk, won't have you saying such things. You're coming with me. Now gather your things immediately. We're going to the great hall."

Remus just looked at her mildly. "Minerva…I'm going home. I'll finish the night out here and then --"

"You will NOT be staying here tonight."

She saw a flit of confusion in his eyes.

"Remus," she sighed and walked to stand in front of him a bit impatiently. "The students are practically maudlin. It's as if someone died."

"I let them down."

At that, she grabbed his face in her hands and shook it lightly.

"They're not upset because they feel let down or betrayed! For Merlin's sake, they're upset because you've LEFT! You meant a lot to them and you've resigned. And even worse, you resigned without telling them 'goodbye.'"

"Remus…" She began gathering his clothes and handing them to him. "Our last two DADA professors were, to put it mildly, absolute failures in the position…and very much lacking in merit as human beings, to be brutally honest. You, on the other hand, are one of the finest people I've ever known. And you were an absolutely brilliant teacher. I can I only hope you believe in your talents enough to return to the field someday. For now, I understand your decision to leave. I do NOT support it and…aside from Severus, neither does the rest of the faculty. In the meantime, I would think the least you could do to follow up your stellar term with your students is to leave properly - by telling them goodbye, Remus, not slinking off from the castle."

He stood silently, his hands full of clothes and shoes. When he looked at her blankly, Minerva's clipped, proper voice raised an octave.

"Look what running off is doing to your train-of-thought! Are you entirely unaware of how much you were valued as a teacher? As a fellow professor? As a friend to so many people, both young and old, at Hogwarts this past year? Have you completely erased that? Do you truly think it would all go away once people learned about what happened? Hogwarts is not Hogsmeade, Remus."

Minerva's mind suddenly hit upon a sad possibility and ran with it. "Are you so utterly terrified of forgiveness that you'd rather believe you deserve foul treatment as a rule of thumb? Are you _so_ afraid of being forgiven?"

He stood still for a full minute, but she saw no epiphany in his face when he quietly answered, "Perhaps."

"Why?"

"Because…if I'm…unforgiven, I feel that I've paid."

"So you're prepared to punish yourself by condoning your suffering at the hands of others. Does that lessen this enormous guilt you're constantly thrusting upon yourself?"

"Yes, Minerva, it does!" he snapped.

Minerva stung from the verbal affirmation, and the two gauged each other quietly for a moment.

"Remus, for once, can't you be open to the possibility of expecting more from people?"

When he looked at her cautiously with knitted brows, she added softly, "Do you not value them enough to say goodbye? Are they not worth that?"

"Of course, they are," Remus whispered, his voice full of sadness. "Of course, I value them."

"But you left anyway. Without a word. And _that_ is what makes them feel betrayed, not any revelation about your Lycanthropy. Not any rampant loping you did in the forest last night. Now, you're coming back with me to the castle. The students want to see you off properly. And if you refuse to see them, you will STILL sleep in the infirmary so that Pomfrey can look after you. I can't have Potter sneaking out to check on you in the middle of the night, which he most certainly will do if I don't come back with you in tow."

And the minute he got his final piece of clothing on, she snatched him by the hand like a mother hauling away an errant child and took him back to Hogwarts.

* * *

The party went well into the night. It was joyful and boisterous; and all the fear Remus had about uncomfortable goodbyes and distant students was unfounded. 

He could not remember any moment in his entire life when he had felt so much love, so much understanding. He had never been hugged by so many people and felt in those quick and heartfelt embraces his value to them so clearly transferred.

Remus caught Snape, at one point, furtively standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a dark look on his face. When Remus turned and looked at him, a slight glint of fear shown in his eyes that cut Lupin to the bone. But when he began to stand up, Snape flung himself around and disappeared down the hall in a swirl of black cloth and broad steps.

But Lupin didn't have time to dwell on it as one student after another came by, each talking easily and many at length before they were pulled away by other students who wanted to talk, as well.

Neville Longbottom stayed the longest, and Remus realized their conversation wasn't much different from others they had shared after class. It was simply closure. But before he left to get another slice of cake, Neville said quietly, "Thank you for believing in me, Professor Lupin."

Remus pondered the implications of such a statement before answering, "Neville, can I give you a very fresh piece of advice?"

The boy nodded.

"Always expect good things from yourself as well as from other people. Never let a bad moment in your life change that. Somewhere….somewhere along the way, I think you may have lost that - a sense of expectation. I lost it today for a short period of time. And..I've lost it in the past. But I've learned my lesson. Lack of expectation is a very dark path, Neville. And it leads to very dark thoughts. It can destroy you. And quickly at that. Not everything dark and dangerous exists apart from us."

Neville was looking at him intently, his eyes wide.

"Did that make sense?"

He absorbed the advice, lost in thought for a moment. "Yes, sir. I understand. From now on, I'll believe in myself. And I don't need someone else to do it first. But I can always expect them to…even if they never come around.….Did _that_ make sense?"

Remus laughed and put an arm around Neville. "Yes, son, it did." And Neville gave him a genuine smile as he loped off to find a slice of chocolate cake.

* * *

Remus spent the scant few remaining a.m. hours in the near corner bed of the infirmary where he spent so many days as a child, looking up into the interconnecting grey cut stones and maple vaulting, watching the school banners flutter lightly about on Winter days when the whistling wind crept through stone cracks and batted at the light fabric. 

Potter came by to talk quietly for a few minutes before Minerva came in on his coat-tails.

"Potter, please! To bed!"

"I'm going! I just wanted to say 'goodbye'"

"You've been in the great hall with him for the past three hours, Potter."

"Goodbye, Professor Lupin," Harry murmured, upset to be kicked out and sent to his room for the second time in one night.

"Goodbye, Harry. Write often."

"I will," he said with a smile and headed to Gryffindor tower.

Minerva sat on the edge of his bed, exhausted. Like everyone else, she had drank too much, eaten too much, and laughed long and well.

"Albus wanted me to check once more. Will you not reconsider?" she asked quietly.

"No, but I do appreciate the offer, more than you'll ever know….As soon as I can find a new job, I'm going to search for Peter."

"Remus," she said lowly and patted his knee, regretting that she felt compelled to bring up words spoken hours ago. "Please…don't ever think the thoughts you uttered in the shack tonight. I don't ever want to hear you say such things again."

"You won't." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Sometimes even werewolves need a swift kick in the arse, Minerva. Thank you for the swift kick."

"Well, the students kicked harder. And in a less direct way. But I shall always be available to provide one. Proverbially, of course."

"Of course," he laughed.

Before Minerva got up, she kissed him gently on the forehead. "Goodbye, Remus. Don't be a stranger."

In two blinks, Lupin shut his eyes and slept soundly, his bed lit by a dim glow emanating from the large stack of spelled pictures, notes and cards on the nightstand -- a heart-felt beacon of deserving and expectation to light the way for a tired werewolf's soul.

**tbc**

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note: Next will be a moment with Snape, followed by a guard duty conversation with Nymphadora Tonks and ending on Christmas day with Sirius. Wishing you all a lovely summer!_


	8. And Still Thirtyfour, Snape

_It is easy enough to be friendly with one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere business._

_Mohandas K. Gandhi_

* * *

Streaks of late evening light fell on Remus as he sat in the otherwise very dark, book-laden study of his home. He leaned tiredly over his desk, quill bobbing in movement as a bead of moisture trickled down his jaw and held tenaciously from his chin before falling to the parchment below. 

He'd spent all day editing, erasing, and elaborating Issue XVI of _The Western European Journal of Ancient Magical Creatures and their Habitats_; and the sooner he finished, the sooner he got paid. Even more rewarding, he could just pass out. But he couldn't think of that now.

_Archaeological evidence tends to support the popular theory that early dragon habitats shifted per season to follow food sources, both floral and faunal, that they previously knew of. _

Another dangling preposition. And a bad sentence, at that.

Knock Knock Knock

He started at the firm, evenly-spaced knocks at his door but didn't spare much time to consider their author and opted not to answer. Considering the nature of the knock, too harsh for a salesman. A disgruntled neighbor, perhaps? Noise complaint?

Remus rummaged the gauze-covered memories of the night before last, searching for a particularly loud or bothersome moment he might have caused from his cage in the basement.

He shifted in his seat, breath hitching at the dull pain nestled in his joints. The blood-soaked bandage on his side gave a moist sound with the slight movement, and he looked down to make sure it hadn't bled through his shirt. His best shirt, really, but somehow putting it on helped him deny that anything was amiss.

Remus chastised himself for thinking about his pain and hunger. He needed to focus on the journal. Something for something. He would provide a service. Edit the journal and receive payment in exchange. And he could use that to get his life back in order. He wanted simplicity, structure, stability again. He wanted to rebuild a foundation and start life anew.

And pain distracted from that….as did the knock at the door, which occurred again, harder and more insistent.

WHAMWHAMWHAM

The werewolf shook his head and kept writing. Even when his "visitor" magically opened the door, Remus only pointed his wand towards the entry and continued to write with the other hand. Just as he finished article seven, a dark figure hovered nearby, and Remus raised his head to find none other than a clearly disgruntled Severus Snape. He casually returned the wand to his belt and kept writing.

"Severus, have you ever heard of trespassing?"

"Lupin, have you ever heard of answering your owls?"

Lupin's quill continued to scratch away in even tones.

"Dumbledore sent you one this morning, and you haven't replied. If you could manage the responsibility of so menial a task as answering your mail, I'd be home as we speak."

"Severus, I'm sure you've received ample compensation, in one form or another, for coming here."

"Indeed," Severus drawled blandly and gave off a petulant sigh as his eyes roved around Lupin's small house.

"There's tea on the stove. Nothing to eat, really. I'm sorry, I don't have much to offer you."

He could tell from Snape's demeanor that he had expected volatility, belligerence, anything but this distant but cordial welcome. But Remus didn't have the energy to hold grudges. Or the time.

"In accordance with Dumbledore's orders, I've brought you potions of various sorts, depending on whatever havoc you managed to wreak upon yourself this last full moon."

"Thank you."

"Dumbledore was concerned. The full moons after concluding a wolfsbane regimen are supposed to be particularly harsh."

"They have been," he said in a clipped voice, pulling his cloak around shaking shoulders with one free arm as the other traced parchment.

Snape's hard heels tapped slowly on the wooden planks until he reached Lupin's desk.

"You're sweating."

"I'm fine. And yes, Severus, it was a bad moon. As were the last four. If you want to leave those potions in the kitchen, I'm actually quite busy."

Snape gauged him for a moment. "As much as the thought of departing this….place… pleases me, I can't leave until I've had a look at you. Dumbledore's orders."

"Then you can look at me when I finish this."

"And when might that occur?"

"In about an hour. Feel free to find a book if you like. Or leave the things in the kitchen and go. Either would be fine. Thank you so much, and please tell Dumbledore that I'm well."

"You don't appear well," Snape remarked, more of a statement than a concern.

"Are you staying then?"

"One hour, Lupin."

Remus looked up for a moment and could tell by the set of Snape's shoulders that he had found quite a few books to interest him on the teeming shelves. After walking back and forth several times, he sat down with one.

"Do try and keep your schedule, Lupin. I have no interest in devoting any more time to your canine-induced travails than necessary."

He turned just once in the hour to look at Snape, who sat stiffly on the couch engrossed in a book, his legs crossed and lips slightly pursed as he read. Remus squinted his eyes for the title -- _The Migratory Patterns of Mexican Freetail Bats_ -- and turned his face to hide the smile it gave him as he continued editing.

Fifty five minutes later, Remus touched his side and managed a genuine sigh of relief when he had double checked every page and rolled the parchment into a waterproof canister. He gestured to Dumbledore's beautiful silvery owl, who sat patiently on the window sill.

"You hijacked Dumbledore's owl?"

Remus looked slightly embarrassed.

"I needed him to deliver this as soon as I finished…. .This one is for Dumbledore," he told the owl kindly, affixing the slightly overdue letter. "And this one goes to Flourish and Blotts Publishers House, West Diagon Alley. You'll pass it on the way home."

Lupin offered the owl a nice morsel from his desk drawer, and she screeched in thanks before swooping out the small window. He turned to Snape with a wince and explained. "I haven't been….healthy. And that edition, my first at this job, is due by 5:00. If I didn't send an owl with it by 4:00….well, this new job would probably be my second former one this year. At present, I can't afford to rent an owl, let alone buy one. And my ability to deliver it by hand at the moment is…lacking."

"Your subsequent moons won't be as bad." Snape nodded his head with an odd expression. It almost looked like sympathy to Remus, but he knew it couldn't be that. Gas maybe, but not sympathy.

When he got up with some difficultly and clutched weakly at the edge of the desk, Snape caught him by the elbow and led him to the couch to sit him down.

"Lupin, did you have an extended loss of consciousness after this full moon?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Not sure. Twelve , thirteen hours, perhaps."

"Dizziness? Vertigo?"

"Some."

"Pain in the joints."

"Very much so."

"What about blurred vision?"

He nodded.

Snape gave an irritated sigh when he looked at Lupin's eyes and fingertips. Remus puffed out a small chuckle and grinned in spite of himself when Snape pushed at his upper lip with two thumbs to check his canines for interlunar protrusion. Snape gave him a chastising look and wiped the wet thumbs on his own pants as he sat down.

"There's a man at Diagon named Cretagus Grendil. He can make wolfsbane for a decent price. I'm aware of his skills. He's not as flawless a potionsmaker as I am, but his technique is satisfactory. In the meantime, I've left you enough for the next full moon."

Remus looked surprised.

"I agreed to make it with the specifications for preservation…for the next full moon _only_. Dumbledore wished it provided until you have some stability at your new position. It's been preserved. There is a slight loss of efficacy, but it is marginal. Don't open the flasks until you take them; and they must be heated to 85 degrees and consumed immediately.

He nodded weakly as Snape removed several small corked bottles from his bag and schooled Remus on the contents with a tone usually reserved for first year Hufflepuffs.

"This is an _abluvial_ potion. It will cleanse your blood of toxins that have built up in your system from the wolfsbane lapse and should alleviate the nausea. There's also _condolesca_ for pain and something for sleep. The condolesca is in two flasks and must be combined at least an hour before drinking but no more than two.…As far as what you shall do next, I'll leave that to you.

"Thank you, Severus. Grendil sounds promising. I'll visit him in the next few days. I appreciate your recommending someone, as I know bad wolfsbane is worse than none. And I respect your opinion regarding potionsmasters."

Snape nodded his approval. Then a strange, uncomfortable silence passed between them as Severus looked slightly embarrassed. Remus wondered if a simple 'thank you' was that difficult for him to accept.

"Lupin, I'm not a healer, but do you want me to look at your side?"

His black eyes traced to Lupin's side and back to his face again, and Remus looked down to see that the bandage had finally bled through his blasted good shirt. No surprise, really. He'd sat at his desk for at least six hours.

Despite the terrible fever that made his mind swim on the bare edge of consciousness, Remus tried to seem bored with it all and looked away with a shake of his head.

"No, Severus, it's fine. Just a scratch."

"Just a scratch," Severus said, shaking his head at the blood soaking through the werewolf's shirt. "You could at least allow someone to check it for you."

"No, I assure you it's fine." But when Remus leaned forward to get up, the world went dark.

Hours later, he awoke in his bed to find Pomfrey bustling about, her open medic bag on his nightstand and a large bowl of soup from the Hogwarts kitchen steaming beside it. And Snape nowhere in sight.

* * *

Time flew, not necessarily because Remus or anyone else, for that matter, was having fun. 

He sat at Dumbledore's large oak desk one day, rolling up several maps when Albus gauged him in quiet concern and asked, "How have you been, RJ?"

Remus looked up, frozen for a moment, before he continued to roll the maps and put them back in their large leather canister. "I've been well, Albus. Grendil has turned out to be a fairly good wolfsbane maker. None of the moons have been as terrible as those first few after I left Hogwarts. The gash in my side healed slowly, but there was no permanent damage."

"I didn't know you were badly injured this past year." Albus looked at him curiously, a small, mysterious smile on his face.

"Yes," he said carefully. "Poppy said the wound in my side had gone septic and caused the fever that made me black out for so long. If it hadn't been for you sending Severus, I might not have made it past the morning."

"Remus, I never sent Severus to check on you."

"You did. Last year…. five months after I resigned…. right after the full moon, Albus." Remus added, wondering if the wizard wasn't getting forgetful in his later years.

Dumbledore's eyes danced. "Remus, I never sent Severus to check on you…I did send a letter inquiring as to how you were doing."

"Ah…well." Remus scratched lightly at his ear with a casual finger and chuckled. "I see."

"That same day, he did ask if I had heard from you, and I told him I had sent an owl but she hadn't returned. I hadn't been too worried. She loves to flit about and hunt in the fields. And she came back that evening with a note from you stating….that everything was fine." There was a quiet reprimand in Dumbledore's voice. And a subtle hint of knowing.

Remus sat down, pensive. "Pomfrey said I could have easily died. The infection had spread to my blood. I assumed you sent for her. I guess Severus did. He brought me wolfsbane….potions…and called for Poppy when I blacked out."

Albus fumbled through his pockets for lemon drops as he watched Remus carefully, read his thoughts. "How does a man always desperate to repay a good deed go about thanking a man who doesn't want to be thanked?"

Remus looked slightly embarrassed that Albus instinctively read his thoughts and left the headmaster's office with a smile on his face and his brow knitted .

Why did Snape do it? Well…"why" didn't really matter at this point. That was a very deep tunnel to travel. Finding a way to thank Severus was a complicated matter in itself, and the more important conundrum.

But how? He couldn't simply thank him for an act of kindness he had emphatically attributed to someone else. Snape would find it…humiliating. And he had not lorded the gesture over Remus that past year. In fact, it had never come up between them. The potions master had gone back to his snarky, sneering disposition, skirting Remus in meetings, throwing him glares as if Remus' presence was constantly accompanied by the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard.

He decided to let the issue go for now. And if there came a time when Snape needed something….or someone….perhaps he could help, in some small way.

And as bad luck would have it in times of war, he didn't have to wait long, for The Order rarely managed to extract information without it exacting a price. And Snape often paid for information in flesh…yet The Order took his suffering in stride, justifying it as payment due for past transgressions.

Their casual receipt of Snape's sacrifices disgusted Lupin. Not that Snape wanted their pity, but beneath his heavy veneer of defensiveness was someone who needed a moment of sympathy just as badly as anyone else who hurt alone, in dark corners of their mind. And Remus knew as much about that as anyone.

Lupin sat through the rest of the Order meeting lost in thought, aggravated by his inability to pay attention after hearing that Voldemort had tortured Severus yet again. And afterwards, he cornered Fletcher.

"Oh, you know Snape, he'll be fine," Mundungus said.

"But he wasn't here for the meeting. Where did he go?"

Fletcher looked at him as if it were a silly question.

"Back to Hogwarts, I suppose."

Snape wasn't in his rooms, in his classroom, in his study. After borrowing the marauder map from Harry, Remus located him, alarmingly, on the steep sloped roof above Slytherin tower. Wand lit, he walked carefully along the narrow ledge until he finally spotted Severus sitting, elbows on knees and looking straight ahead into the night air, a potion-soaked rag wrapped around his forearm where the dark mark burned.

_Out here perched like a vampire bat,_ Remus mused. _Things like that don't help with the rumors_.

"Severus, what are you doing up here on the roof?"

Snape's eyes slowly roamed to Remus who pulled himself up over the sharp edge with a grunt and carefully stood into the angled "ground", smiling and brushing dirt-covered hands on his pants.

Annoyed, Snape looked away as Remus walked up the incline and sat next to him. He didn't seem to have his wand, a scary thought when one considered the steep nature of his secret roost.

"Lupin….just strolling through, I presume."

"Of course." He murmured a spell to put a temporary safety net over the edge. "You could lose your balance and fall right off this thing, you know."

Snape's voice dripped with bored sarcasm. "And what a loss that would be."

"Up here playing the emotional violin for yourself?"

"I'm looking for some quiet. You're not welcome, by the way." he added as Remus sat down beside him.

"Oh, I imagine I'm not."

After a long moment of silence, Snape began to stand up but lurched forward awkwardly and Remus grasped him firmly by the arm and helped him back down.

"Here!…sit down for a bit more. You're dizzy?"

Snape squeezed his eyes shut and let his chin drop to his chest, breathing heavily through his nose. "Residual…. from the _cruciatus_. It will pass."

"God….he hit you with it again?"

Snape said nothing.

"Well, you picked a hell of a bad spot to sit for a spell."

Lupin was shocked and somewhat pleased to see the edges of Snape's mouth go up in a tight smile. "If that was an advertent pun, you should be hit with the _cruciatus_ for that alone."

The werewolf chuckled lightly.

"Lupin, what are you doing?"

"Dumbledore sent me to check on you. Why did you come up here?"

"The view."

"It's 2:00 am, Severus. For all intensive purposes, there is no view."

"Maybe not to you….." Severus looked up again with blank eyes. "But I see a thousand possibilities in the dark."

Lupin observed him for a moment before looking back into the thick blackness of the starless night.

"If you keep this up, he'll kill you."

"I do what I must."

"Then you ask too much of yourself."

"There is no such thing in times of war, Lupin. You know that as well as I do.…Besides…many see my life as proper payment for the sins of my youth."

"They don't understand that people change. If they can't forgive you, that's their problem, not yours….your sacrifices are worth no less than anyone else's."

"But if I remain unforgiven, then it is my problem….a problem only my death may solve. Quite possibly, it's a fair exchange."

"For who? For you? Your death in exchange for forgiveness?" Remus considered him for a moment. "It hurts you deeply…that people still hold grudges."

"No, not at all. Their judgment is not so much a care as an issue, really."

"But you still have guilt about the first war."

"Of course." Snape said, matter-of-factly."

Remus suddenly realized that he and Snape had more in common than he thought. And he said quietly, "I know something about guilt. And lack of forgiveness."

"I agree with one of those statements."

Remus looked at him cautiously, clearly unaware of what he meant. And Snape threw him a double-take and shook his head.

"For the love of Merlin….People run around desperate to forgive you, Lupin, to fall over you to make your life better. You just never see it, because you're too busy wallowing in your own guilt. I, on the other hand, have very little guilt but a large helping of judgment waiting for me at every opportunity."

"You know so little about what my life has been like, Severus."

"I know enough."

Remus felt his jaw tighten, his ears grow hot.

"People are willing to forgive me but not you?"

"That's a rather simplistic way of putting a complex observation, but yes."

"You speak strongly against the unforgiving nature of others, but you've never forgiven me for what happened in the shrieking shack."

Snape looked over at him, a bit surprised.

"Never forgave you for the shrieking shack, Lupin? I could have cared less. I hate you for you for being a spineless coward, for turning your head a hundred times over while your friends tormented me. It's a state of being, not an act. I can't forgive you for being the person that you are. And you shouldn't expect me to."

"The person that I was…"

"That you are.."

"I was a child, Severus. A child who had spent most of his life friendless and alone. I wasn't strong enough to risk losing them."

"Like I said, a spineless coward."

Remus sighed. He had climbed a very steep roof to talk to Snape about current matters and ended up picking at old wounds.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry…… I wish I could amend those days. But I can't take them back. I can only be the man I am now and tell you I hate those memories as much as you do. They cut me just as deeply. If you cannot accept that I share your pain, that makes you no better than the people who judge you in the exact same way. I accept that you're different from the young man Voldemort marked. Can't you accept that I've changed, as well? Severus……can't we let this go? We have too much hardship in our lives to keep carrying the past around like a dead weight."

"Let the past go….for your own sake."

"For both our sakes, can't we walk into the future unhindered?"

"You've been allowed to do that a thousand times over, werewolf….start over…but life has chained me to my past for eternity," he said quietly, touching his forearm. He sat silently for many minutes, letting the breeze wash over him.

"Not where I'm concerned. You have all the time I have left, Severus. All my days to forgive me. I won't stop trying to be your friend….It's late, and you're tired….let me get you back."

Finally, Lupin stood and offered his hand. When the potionsmaster didn't take it, he took him gently by the elbow and helped him up. With several carefully laid spells to protect them from a fall, Lupin got him off the roof and back to the dungeons, where Severus visibly relaxed into the home that greeted him – coarse walls, cold floors, austere and minimalist decor and an intricate cacophony of potions equipment.

Remus looked around and cringed. Snape sat down automatically on the black velvet couch and pulled his neat shirt out of the tuck, unwrapped the now dried out rag around his forearm and put it on the table in front of him, where Remus almost immediately picked up it and took it over to a warm cauldron on the potions table.

"Is this what was on the rag?"

Snape nodded warily and Remus resoaked the rag and wrapped it back around the arm, looking at Severus in the honest light of the room.

He eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his face streaked with dried tears, and a deep scratch smeared with clotted blood ran across his cheek.

"You have a cut, just here." Remus touched it lightly.

"I'm not injured."

"You scratched yourself…..when you were in pain." Remus found a rag and salve and carefully wiped at the spot then hunkered down to show the bloody cloth to Severus before he folded it over. "It happens," he said with a small smile, pointing quickly to his own face.

Snape's eyes absentmindedly roved over the werewolf's scarred skin for a long moment before Remus went to Snape's potion cabinet and removed a bottle for dreamless sleep.

"Reprieve?" Remus asked, putting the bottle on the table.

"No….I don't want to sleep." Snape muttered tiredly, clear exhaustion belying his words.

Still standing, Lupin let his eyes trace the room.

"Alcohol?"

Severus was quiet for a moment. "…Yes."

Remus wandered the room silently a bit before Snape muttered, "The cabinet above the size four cauldron, on the right hand side."

Remus poured a large glass of scotch and offered it to Snape, who noticed Remus didn't pour any for himself.

"I see werewolves don't like scotch," he deadpanned and Remus got a glass and poured himself two fingers worth and sat down beside him. They drank in silence, Severus draining his glass and setting it down before Remus had barely taken his first sip.

"Another?"

"No."

"……….Would you like to talk?"

"No."

Snape sat stiffly, staring into nothing; and Remus looked at him for a full minute before he glanced into his amber-filled glass, wondering if he should even bother with the next question. Maybe he should just leave.

"Do you want to be alone?"

But something flickered in Snape's stone-set face before he answered, quite frankly, "No."

And Remus sensed a vulnerability in him at that moment, a vulnerability that needed the attention of someone who wouldn't take advantage of it, for once.

Remus put an arm around Severus and pulled him to his shoulder. Surprisingly, the potionmaster's eyes closed. And slowly, carefully, he leaned into Lupin and accepted the embrace, learning for the first time the warmth and protectiveness of a friend when you need one most. And the serenity it gave him, like the best of sleeping potions, soothed his soul. And he slept deeply.

Remus leaned his head onto Snape's and smiled just a bit. _He'll probably accuse me of spiking his drink. _But Snape felt safe with him…..Remus Lupin….the man who almost ate him whole years ago. He kept waiting for Snape to wake up and scream at him to get out. But it didn't happen.

After an hour, Remus got up and gently let Snape down onto the couch, picked up the awkwardly angled legs so that he lay on his side and took off his boots. Then he retrieved two blankets from Snape's bedroom and covered him carefully with one before he lowered the lights and sank into a chair, wrapping the second blanket around his shoulders.

"Goodnight, Severus." he whispered.

As dim light leeched through a high dungeon window and filtered into the rooms, Remus cracked open one eye and stretched his stiff back with a low moan.

"Good morning." He looked up to see Severus already dressed in full robes and standing in front of him with a steaming cup of black tea. "Here."

"Thank you."

"I believe you have your weekly appointment with Moody at 9:00 am, if this is indeed Saturday."

"Mmm…yes, that's right. What time is it?"

"7:30…Enough time for breakfast before you go. And you may use my bathroom facilities, if you so desire."

After showering and wand-cleaning his clothes, Remus emerged from the bathroom to find Severus sitting casually at the table waiting for him. Over poached eggs and crispy ham, they exchanged, for the first time Remus could remember, awkward but inconsequential small talk.

But when Remus stood up to leave, Snape said accusingly, "Dumbledore didn't send you."

Remus stopped midway though buttoning his waistcoat, his face unreadable for a long moment before he allowed himself a slow, affectionate smile.

"He didn't send you, either…last Fall." If Snape were surprised or angry..or anything for that matter, he didn't show it. And Remus broadened his grin and continued with his buttons and he headed off to meet Moody.

But he stopped at the door to glance back at Snape, who sent him the barest of bemused smiles. Remus chuckled. "We always have to make it difficult, don't we."

"Of course."

Remus nodded to himself as he turned the knob. "Goodbye, Severus."

And as the door shut quietly, Severus looked after him.

"Goodbye…..Remus."

**tbc**

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* * *

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_Author's Note: Thank you SO much for the reviews! I apologize to all the people who've been crying through these. I owe you all a multi-chaptered comic piece after this to make up for my crimes. :) _

_Please let me know what you thought of this one. I love reviews and, to be honest, if it weren't for you guys, these things would not get written, because I am a lazy lazy arse. _

_This was a more minimalist chapter style-wise and was geared to reflect the type of dysfunctional relationship these two men have._

_A short guard duty talk with Tonks is next, followed by Xmas Day at Grimmauld.__  
_

_Cheers to all!_

_Rane_


	9. Thirtyfive, Tonks

**Random Acts**

"**Year Thirty-Five"**

* * *

"_Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared."_

_Buddha_

* * *

Sitting high on the rooftop with a new moon overhead, Remus Lupin indulged in a moment of bitter self-pity. He didn't do it often, but when he did, at least he readily admitted it. It felt good to have guard duty tonight. No one to deal with but himself. 

A dog barked somewhere….no sign of anything abnormal……Yet part of him welcomed the idea of a harried foot chase or a notable deviation in the dark alley below where Deatheaters occasionally congregated to share information. He wanted anything but tedium, which tended to bring out his sullen side and make things like what happened earlier that night matter when they shouldn't.

"_Bloody animal, I recognize you! I read about you in the papers! Get away from my cart!" _

_People froze in the streets, and Remus flushed crimson from their burning glares as he gave the man a small smile, thrust awkward hands in his pockets and disappeared into the darkness of the night. _

Remus took the chocolate and cherry Muggle sucker out of his mouth and downed close to the last dregs from his soda bottle. Silly things to crave when you're depressed but he always had – the solace of sugar in his system, the glucose threading through his veins like a calming potion. First the light buzz then the satisfied sleepiness. There were worse things to crave in fits of depression, he figured.

His eyes darted suddenly to color and movement at the edge of the rooftop and he reached for his wand only to realize the shocking brightness came from Nymphadora Tonks' hot pink coiffure and lime green T-shirt as she arrived to relieve him, stumbling over a small pipe and cussing lightly. Tonks….He truly cared for the young auror but didn't know whether he could handle her effervescence tonight.

"Wotcher, Remus," she said quietly yet with an energy that he hadn't seen from anything or anyone in days.

"Hello, Tonks," he mumbled.

"Ahh, Sirius warned me. 'Remus is in one of his baleful moods tonight.'"

"Did he? That's funny, I thought it didn't start until after I left."

"Nope, you were grumpy when you left." She hunkered down beside him to poke casually at the corner of his mouth, and he batted her hand away.

"A smile is a frown turned upside down, they say."

"Don't make me kill you."

When she laughed he laughed, too, for some strange reason hating himself for pulling away from his depression.

"Okay, it's 1:00 am now. Go home and get some sleep, Professor R.J..…..But what about coming back with Kingsley at 9:00 when he relieves me and we can go get omelets at The Leaky Cauldron? I have to run an errand at Diagon anyway."

"The Leaky Cauldron…" He laughed bitterly. "Tonks, did you know that every time I eat there, they throw away everything I touch? The plates? The cutlery? If it's alright with you, I'll spare them the expense, as I'm sure it runs higher than the cost of my meals."

Her face fell.

Suddenly, he felt badly for sharing. He didn't want the ill thoughts of others tainting her opinion of him, which it sometimes did with people. Humans were pack animals, and weaker ones often fell in with the pack. But Tonks was strong. Plus, she wasn't a child anymore. She couldn't afford to be naïve about their world in times like these. And so, he continued.

"I couldn't even get a road vendor to sell me a box of curry tonight. So before you start viewing me as a prospective dinner mate, Tonks, you should at least know the facts. I doubt you and I will get beyond morning cereal at Grimmauld as far as eating together goes."

"Remus….." She felt her eyes start to water and cleared her throat. "I didn't know those things….that people were like that to you….that's….that's bloody awful."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them as she dealt with her anger and he mentally chastised himself for displaying such a raw spot. He tried to keep mental injuries locked away, hidden from others. But this one was oddly painful, and he had cried out when he should have kept silent.

Remus shifted the sucker from one side of the mouth to the other with his tongue and tried to go back to small talk, but his voice was tight.

"I don't make a bad omelet, Tonks. Why don't you come back to Grimmauld in the morning and I'll fix you some breakfast? And then I'll go with you to Diagon, if you like."

But Tonks could feel the hurt emanating off him as he rested his elbows on his drawn-up knees, trying to keep his eyes trained on the alleyway and avoid her gaze. Here he was – a mainstay of strength for the Order. Quite possibly one of the most powerful wizards among them. But he wasn't beyond feeling pain for such petty, hateful injustices. Remus wanted to be understood. And he wanted people to like him. _Merlin, don't we all?_ And it was obvious that he always had. Quite possibly, the pain of such trite injustices would only run deeper as time went by and beat him further down. And she didn't know what she could do about such things. Except….

Tonks looked down at the soda bottle with just a dreg of the flat brown fluid left. She picked it up and drained it slowly, her eyes never leaving his, then put it back down with a decisive swallow.

"Tonks, that's nothing but backwash at this point." he said blandly. Then it struck him what she had done. "Just backwash…"

As he gazed at the empty bottle, Tonks moved forward on her knees and sat directly in front of him, their legs touching. She looked from his eyes down to the white paper stick protruding from the side of his mouth, his lips parted slightly in shock from her downing of the soda. The sucker was nestled in his tightly set cheek, but she pulled at the stick and it raked across his teeth and popped from his mouth.

Tonks and Remus both looked at the candy, shiny with werewolf slobber and whittled to half its original size from a half hour of sucking. Tonks put in her own mouth, twirling it pensively for a moment, watching his eyes and smiling when his adam's apple bobbed. Then she crunched the candy off and carefully deposited the stick in the empty pop bottle.

"You know, that goes way beyond fear of Lycanthropy contamination, Tonks. That's just plain unsanitary."

She smiled and did a little dance with her shoulders as she chewed the last of the candy and held his face gently in her hands to give him a chaste but sugary wet kiss on the lips then leaned back to gauge him.

"Oh, I'm horribly afraid, Remus. I'm afraid that I just risked getting a cold from you. Do you have a cold right now, Remus?"

"No," he said quietly with a smile and ducked his head down. He was practically ashamed by how much her actions meant. She lowered her head to meet his eyes.

"Well, then I don't have anything to worry about. Thank you for the soda. And the candy."

He dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a fresh one, neatly wrapped in red wax paper.

"You didn't have to recycle." he said with a genuine grin.

"No thank you, I don't like candy that much. The chocolate center was nice, though!"

She leaned back into him and looked out on the street to begin her watch, pulling his long arm around her and cushioning it against the warmth of her breasts. After a minute, she rubbed his arm and leaned her head back, looking up at him.

"What about coming to my flat for dinner tomorrow night? I'll make lasagna, and you can test the sauce off all my spoons."

He laughed, reaching for her hand and squeezing it lightly. Suddenly, his breath quickened as he noticed a dozen things about her at once -- the way he could just see the bottom of her teeth when her lips parted. How wonderful she smelled. How radiant she looked, even in the dim light of a new moon. How her eyes, just below him, gleamed with something he rarely saw when people looked at him.

All he could manage was a murmured, "That would be wonderful." She returned the smile before looking back down into the alley. And Remus rested his chin on the top of her head and let the fingers of his captured arm curl around her shoulder.

"You just can't let me brood in peace, can you?"

"I'm an Auror, a destroyer of all things dark." she said with a gentle, teasing tone.

After a moment, he dropped a kiss on her pink-tressed head and lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, "Thank you for being my friend, Nymphadora."

Ever-so-softly, she answered, "Thanks for being mine." But after a beat, she added in a serious voice, "And it's Tonks, Remus…..Tonks…not that other name. 'Kay?"

"We'll see."

She shook her head with a smile. "Incorrigible."

Remus grinned and, in spite of himself, for the first time in weeks, he felt content. More than that, he felt loved.

**tbc**

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_Author's Note: Hope you liked this one! Please let me know what you thought. _

_Just one more to go -- Xmas day at Grimmauld. Tonks will also show up in the final chapter, as well, with good will and mistletoe ;). _

_Cheers to all, Rane _


	10. Thirtysix, Sirius

**Random Acts**

"**Thirty-Seven"**

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"_It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us family."_

_Johan Schiller_

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Molly meekly opened the door of Sirius' room, one hand clutched at her chest to hold her pink terry robe closed. 

"Boys, there are so many people here, and I have five people to most of the rooms. Would you mind horribly if Remus stayed in here with you tonight?"

"Sure. Harry, is that alright with you?"

"Of course," Harry called from the bathroom through a mouth of toothpaste. Three Weasley boys had taken his room. And everyone else's living space was topsy turvey, as well.

"I gave his room to the girls since it has the only other king-sized bed in the house. Remus doesn't get off guard duty 'til 3 am, though, so I put a note on the door letting him know." She paused with a bit of worry in her face. "He's been looking so exhausted lately, and he's not eating. And with the full moon just two day past, I hate to see him trying to sleep on that second couch downstairs. He's too tall for it."

"Say no more, Molly. You know I sleep light. I'll grab him when he gets home. I was actually planning to do that, anyway."

"Thank you, Sirius. Harry." Molly made to leave and then popped her head in again. "And there's a plate for him in the fridge. And a pitcher of milk."

"We'll make sure he eats."

"Alright, good night then." Molly smiled and shut the door quietly as they both returned her good night.

When Harry came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, he looked thoughtful.

"Is Professor Lupin okay? I mean, Mrs. Weasley is right. He hasn't been looking well."

"He'll be fine…I think. Remus isn't very good about taking care of himself. And I think it's been quite a while since he's had anyone in his life to pick up the slack…But he won't be working any more double shifts. I had a little chat with Moody."

Harry sat on the bed with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. "I think I overhead some of that earlier. Sounded like more than 'a little chat.'"

Sirius smiled as he dug through his pajama drawer. "What can I say, I'm overprotective."

* * *

Remus trudged back to Grimmauld in the dead of night on Christmas Eve thinking, quite possibly, that it was the worst of his life. _Bloody snowstorm, now of all times_. How was it possible to feel nothing and everything at the same time? 

He didn't want to draw attention with an impenetrable spell and walked miserably down the shiny sidewalk, sleet mingled snow crunching beneath his feet as he brushed wet ice from his eyes. A second Muggle patrol rolled by at a snail's pace, and the patrolman eyed him suspiciously as he passed.

No one wanted to work the holidays, so he had offered to take double, even triple shifts whenever possible. And he'd volunteered for most of tomorrow, as well, but didn't mind. Work kept him from focusing on the things he didn't have, the things that he thought about most on holidays - like family…and children. And a place to call "home." A paying job.

So he was doing himself a favor. Plus, giving those who had family a chance to enjoy time with one another. It sounded like bitterness to tally it up like that, but really it was rationale. Remus had become a master at finding the easiest emotional way to get from point A to point B, and a 110 hour workweek made for the smoothest path through the holiday season.

He passed several houses with soft colors emanating from their front windows --silhouettes of trees, menorahs and bright lights barely visible through the white-scratched air of the storm. All occupants tucked in their beds by now…. From his watch earlier, he had seen through every window families laughing, embracing, passing each other food and presents. It had kept him warm, seeing so many people happy and content.

But the weather had gone from bad to worse and with nothing heartening to focus on and the full moon just two days past, he actually had to stop and wonder whether he could make it back to headquarters. And odd, numb pain shot through his sleet-soaked body with every step, and he shoved his hands farther into wet pockets despite knowing he'd find no reprieve for them there. But one step at a time, he finally found himself in front of Number 12 Grimmauld.

Remus had known the house would be at maximum capacity tonight, but when he saw the scrawled sign on his bedroom door stating, "The girls are staying in your room," his head fell backwards with a sigh. He needed dry clothes but couldn't very well enter their room in the dead of night. It was rude. And since Ginny Weasley slept with a wand curled in her hand these days, he'd probably get hexed before he could identify himself. Oh well…

He wandered downstairs like a zombie to stretch out on the sitting room couch but found Moody, of all people, collapsed on it. And the second couch was barely more than a wide chair for a man of his height, but he scrunched up into it, pulling his arms around himself and had almost dozed off when he heard a voice directly above him.

"Oh, this won't do."

Remus looked up to see a shadowy outline of Sirius, who pulled him upright off the couch, helped him upstairs and opened the bedroom door carefully, wincing at the squeak and trying not to wake a lump in the bed.

"Who's that?"

"Harry. Molly put three Weasley boys in his bed tonight. Cor, Remus, you're freezing wet!" Sirius hissed and put a hand on his back to push him towards the lavatory.

When Sirius turned on the bathroom light, his eyes went wide with concern. Remus looked a step above death. And he didn't even shiver, a sure sign of hypothermia. As Sirius turned to draw a hot bath, Remus sat down automatically on the toilet lid then Sirius hunkered down to take off the soaking wet shoes and socks and tap his hands and feet with his wand. Remus felt an immediate lazy warmth travel through the frozen digits.

"So you don't scream like a banshee when you hit the water with that frostbite. Now get those clothes off. Molly has a plate for you in the kitchen."

"I'm too tired to eat."

"Oh, you'll eat. She'll have my head if you don't. Do you want a brandy with it?"

"Merlin, yes…."

Remus looked like he could fall over any minute as he fumbled with his coat buttons, and Sirius reached forward to help him, but Remus pushed his hand away with a weak laugh.

"It's okay. I'm not so far gone I can't get my clothes off."

But Sirius lingered a moment anyway before going downstairs to retrieve the food.

The exhausted werewolf had managed to clumsily peel off his sopping wet clothes and settle into the steamy water when Sirius returned.

"Plate's on the dresser. Turkey sandwich and dressing. Two glasses of milk….Chocolate cake with orange icing. Molly made it just for you." He placed a dry folded towel, flannel pajama bottoms, and a white t-shirt by the tub and handed the larger of two brandy snifters he had poured to Remus, who took it gratefully.

"Orange frosting on chocolate cake? No one in this entire house likes that."

"You do."

"No one likes it."

"Remus, _you_ like it. Like I said, she made it for you.

Sirius dug around in the medicine cabinet and came out with two potions, which he uncorked and put on the edge of the tub.

"Drink those, too." he said, pulling a chair to the bathroom door so he could talk with Remus while giving him some privacy.

"Sorry about your room, mate. The house is full tonight with the Weasley clan here for Xmas tomorrow. Or..actually today," he said, glancing at the clock with a smile as he sat down in the chair and took a deep drink of brandy. "Plus a few extra from The Order who didn't really have any family to celebrate with_." _

_Like me,_ Lupin thought idly. "It's alright. It's not really my room," Remus said with no bitterness.

Sirius sat silent for a moment, obviously hurt. "As long as you're here, it's your room. And this is your home."

Remus tilted his head around the corner and looked at Sirius then forced a smile and nodded his head uncertainly before sliding back to submerge beneath the hot water. When he came up and ran his hands slowly across his face with a sigh, Sirius looked into his glass and asked, "Feeling better?"

"Much. The weather is bloody awful out there tonight. I don't mind the cold. Or the rain for that matter, but put them together...Weather should be better tomorrow, but my next shift starts in five hours. Maybe the sleet will stop by then."

"You don't have a shift tomorrow."

"Yes, I have a double shift. Check the schedule."

"Remus…everyone donated two hours so you don't have to work. The Order just realized how many shifts you've been taking and wanted to give you a break."

"People need to be with their families tomorrow, Sirius."

"That's right. And your family wants to see you tomorrow."

When the silence was deafening, Sirius leaned forward a bit to see Remus slumped in the tub, his face just visible over the white rim.

Remus wore the neutral expression of a man who had been hurt too many times to invest himself concerning such things. And in that one expression, Sirius learned, without knowing the whys or the wherefores, that the last twelve years of his friend's life had been lonely and cruel..and oftentimes empty.

So Sirius chose his words carefully.

"Remus, what am I? And Harry. The Weasleys, Tonks…..We're your family. Everyone will have guard duty two hours tomorrow so no one is left out in the cold on Christmas….literally," he added with a smile. "You have presents under the tree that need opening, and your fingers and toes need a break. Plus, I think we have a chess game that we never finished…. _And_ if Tonks is not kissed by you at some point, she may explode. We don't need that kind of mess, Moony."

"I don't understand." Remus sounded slightly alarmed, and Sirius had chuckle.

"I guess I should officially warn you. Tonks has hung mistletoe all over this house, and she's been fervently waiting for your return."

"She's probably had every man in this house walking about like a hunted animal," Remus said with a hint of mirth.

"Nooo, I believe Tonks is waiting for certain prey that's been notably absent in these parts, due to overwork. She's planning…" Sirius looked up, tracing his eyes, "'to catch the unsuspecting werewolf in his natural habitat and subdue him with a passionate kiss,' is how she put it."

Remus just shook his head and rubbed one of his submerged feet thoughtfully.

"What do you think of that?"

He stayed quiet for a long moment. "I think the woman is mad," he finally said, strong affection in his voice belying the words.

Sirius considered Remus then said gently, "Well, do you want to know what I think?"

The werewolf's silence was a timid response.

"I think if Tonks dreams of having a multi-colored litter and changing her name to Tonks Lupin, she's a wise woman."

"Sirius..." he said lowly, as if his friend had just said the most foolish thing ever.

"Does that surprise you? Everyone in The Order sees it but you, is that it?"

"She's young….and beautiful. She shouldn't-"

"Love who she loves?... Doesn't she deserve that freedom?"

For his own benefit, Remus shrugged noncommittally. "She deserves better."

"Well….whether you want to accept it or not, Tonks loves you dearly."

Remus looked downward, pensive for a moment then shivered in the tepid water as he pulled the plug in the tub and drained the brandy snifter.

"And so do I," Sirius added before putting the small chair back in its spot when he heard the tub water gurgling.

Remus emerged wearing Padfoot's flannel pajamas and t-shirt, and Sirius pointed to a corner chair with a whispered "sit." When Remus sat down, Sirius smiled and said, "Good wolf" as he placed the plate in his lap.

Suddenly, Harry started out of a deep sleep and sat up in the bed, looking toward the two shadows in the far corner.

"Are you alright, Professor Lupin?"

"I am now. I'm sorry, Harry, waking you up in the middle of the night like this."

"S'kay. Everyone was worried about you with the weather tonight. Mr. Weasley said you wouldn't use any spells to stay dry because you wouldn't want to draw attention, so we've been listening for you to come in."

He watched Harry's silhouette casually remove the good pillow from under his head to put it on Lupin's side and take the scraggly one in its stead before he scooted over to make room for him and soon after began snoring loudly.

Sirius looked over at him with affection and said, "Kid snores even louder than his dad did. James would be proud."

Remus chuckled and nodded in agreement.

He ate the sandwich carefully and appreciatively then dove into the orange chocolate cake with less control. A muffled whisper from him sounded like "Delicious."

"It's disgusting, Moony. But it's your cake."

They chatted in low tones, punctuated by the occasional stifled laugh. And when he'd eaten the last bite and put the plate on the table, Sirius got up with a tired groan.

"Well, kid, I don't think we need to floo you to St. Mungo's anymore, but I considered it there for a moment."

"I was just a bit chilled."

"You were halfway to frozen solid," he scoffed. Sirius looked at him carefully for a moment, relieved at the improvement as he curled a hand around Remus' arm.

"Let's get you to bed."

But Remus didn't budge and pulled his arm away gently, wanting to tell Sirius how he felt while he still had the inclination to do so.

Sirius…I'm…." He shook his head. "I'm sorry for…I don't know. Thinking I was alone. I've been so blessed this year, and I haven't really taken the time to appreciate it. You're innocent, and you're back. That's such a gift. I've dealt with nothing but darkness lately. And having to focus all my energy on it makes it easier to…focus on the darkness in my own life. Sometimes it overshadows things that it shouldn't."

He looked up at Sirius earnestly and smiled. "You are my family. I didn't mean to imply that you're weren't. You're the brother I never had, Padfoot."

Sirius squatted down in front of him, and Remus was surprised to see immediate tears shining in his friend's eyes.

"And you're mine." He held Remus' gaze for a while then grinned before patting Remus on the knee and grabbing his arm as they both stood. "Come on…off to bed."

Remus limped over to the bed and sat down, careful not to wake Harry; and Sirius dug through the closet for a heavy quilt, unfolded it and arranged it over the werewolf before ruffling his hair lightly.

"Happy Xmas, Moony. See you in the morning."

"It's good to be home," Remus whispered with a smile, which made Sirius grin broadly as he went back to his spot in the bed.

Remus had almost drifted into unconsciousness when he realized that night at Grimmauld wasn't so different from the evening Sirius had arrived on his doorstep over a year ago - the entreat inside as Padfoot sat outside the door, too exhausted to go any farther, the hot bath, the good meal, the alcohol, the provision of sleep clothes and a warm place to rest…

Sirius never let a favor go by unreturned, never forgot a kindness…and Remus knew that the similarities hadn't gone unnoticed by his friend. But he also knew that the past played no role in Sirius' decisions about the present. He was always there to help the people he held dear, consequences be damned.

Ghostly, austere Grimmauld was full of people who fit that bill…friends who loved Remus…who made horrible cake that only he enjoyed, who'd stand in the freezing rain for two hours so he didn't have to do it for sixteen, who'd wake in the middle of the night to take care of him when, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, he needed it most.

Sometimes when you least expect it, things creep up on you. Like love. And acceptance. And finding that you've carved a place for yourself where you're not only needed for your talents but you're valued for your heart. And that, Remus discovered, was a very beautiful place to live. It was a place he could call 'home'.

_**El fin**  
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_Author's Note: Hold on, I hear sirens outside. Oh no! The schmaltz police are here to run me in! Yes, I ended with a bit of fluff. It just felt like the right thing to do after chronicling some of the truly sad moments in Remus' life. Hope you enjoyed them and thanks for reading! _

_I'd like to say a very very special 'thank you' to those who reviewed! You all made this piece worthwhile for me. Thanks so much for your feedback and your words of encouragement. Truly, you guys were the only reason this thing got written in the end. _

_The line about an exploding Tonks making a mess was inspired by a scene in a Remus/Tonks fanfic… and I can't remember which one, but the line said Molly Weasley would not approve of the mess an exploding Tonks would create. If you're the author of that piece, please let me know and I'll cite you for the inspiration. _

_The "love who she loves" line was inspired by a scene in Lyra Lupin's "Take her in your Arms" in which Tonks states, "I love who I love who I love." _

_I may update this work again if Remus appears in The Half Blood Prince and/or Book VII. I love building on canon and don't want to venture off into uncharted territory with a story like this._

_May you all be recipients of random acts of kindness when you need them most._

_Cheers, peace, and well wishes to all,_

_Rane _


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